


The Survivor

by confusednerdling



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 3x01 spoilers, F/F, Post 3x01, season three speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-15 08:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusednerdling/pseuds/confusednerdling
Summary: Nicole the survivor. Strong and proud and unstoppable. But when Waverly is kidnapped and Nicole must stop Bulshar, her heritage, as she slides Bulshar’s ring on, becomes clear. Heir to Bulshar, heir to his curse and his bullshit, Nicole and the team must find a way to defeat him, knowing fully well Nicole may be a casualty in this war.OR“There is no God in Purgatory. Not here. But there’s an angel. Her name is Waverly. Waverly Earp. And Nicole is going to die for her.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “Waverly has been taken to be Bulshar's bride (thanks a lot Bobo). So, how does one crash a wedding?” + “Wynonna, Waverly and Nicole have a run in with Bulshar himself and he seems particularly interested in Nicole“ + “The team is cornered, so Nicole puts on Bulshar's ring to try and protect everyone and get them out of there”
> 
>  
> 
> I got three different prompts all relating to Nicole and Bulshar, and my intention was to, at first, write three different stories, but suddenly I was looking at these prompts and a story was writing itself and I couldn’t resist. Hope you enjoy!

When Nicole closes her eyes, she sees the clear blue waters of the beaches surrounding the islands. She sees Waverly in a bikini, laughing, and brown hair being ruffled in the wind. She sees coconut-flavored drinks, ridiculous amounts of sun screen lathered on their skin, and Waverly pressing her lips against Nicole. She’ll taste like pineapples. Sometimes, it’s mangos. Today, though, pineapples, and she’ll have a flower tucked behind her ear, skin kissed by the sun, and lips with a smile bright and a laugh bubbling in her throat.

Today, today, today, Waverly is tanning on the beach, skin on the sand, and eyes closed.

“I love you, Waverly Earp,” Nicole says, because the water is lapping at the shore. And she feels weightless. “I love you,”

And Waverly’s eyes open after a beat. “Then, find me, Nicole,”

“What? I – “

“Find me,”

Nicole snaps awake, nearly banging her into the window of the car. She can’t breathe. No. She can’t, but she’s choking on the air, choking on it like her body is rejecting it. She places a hand on her chest. There is no beach. No beautiful Waverly in a bikini, tasting like pineapples, and looking like Heaven. She’s in a car, bumpy and dark, and the windows are a blur of darkness and dark green and grey. And she’s surrounded by people, by concerned eyes. She closes her eyes. She closes her eyes, but all she sees is darkness. No more sun. There hasn’t been sun for a while. So she opens and rubs the sleep from her eyes.

She’s in a black SUV, dark and full. Full of anger, tension, and paranoia. Full of Dolls as he drives, of Wynonna with her gun out, of Doc with a shotgun, of Jeremy with a pistol.

“Welcome back to the real world, Haught,” Wynonna says, but it’s lost its bite. It has for a while. “Glad you could return just in time for the raid,”

\---

It had been four days. Four days. Four days.

On Friday, Waverly overslept, buried in her big blankets. Nicole made breakfast. Then, Nicole kissed her girlfriend goodbye as Waverly laid in bed and hopped in a cruiser with Wynonna to take the older Earp for her mandatory meeting with Dolls that she was already late for.

On Saturday, Nicole woke up alone, drunk, eyes swollen and a gash on her chin in a cell. Alone. She and Wynonna had a liquid breakfast and then they headed out on the hunt.

On Sunday, Nicole didn’t sleep. She worked the whole night through. She combed through the woods with a flashlight and a raw throat. She went over the crime scene again. She looked and looked.

On Monday, Nicole woke up and wish she hadn’t at all.

Because four days ago, Waverly Earp went missing. Stolen on the homestead, on the safe land, like a horrible reminder of how unsafe they really were, how their naivety and their ignorance was their pitfall.

Nicole keeps her hand on her gun. Her hand is shaking. It had been for a while. She wonders if this is it. If this is it. Will she find Waverly? Will she die? Is Waverly dead? Maybe if she dies, it wouldn’t be so bad. Just darkness for a while. For an eternity. It would be easier than this. This felt like death. This felt like torture. This felt never-ending. She felt like she was drowning, water filling her lungs, strangling any hope, any chance.

“We’re here,” Dolls says. His voice rougher than usual. His knuckles are bruised and he’s got this look in his eyes. Distance and shut down. “Come on,” He parks the car and pulls out his gun – big and terrifying – and Doc is out with the shotgun, cocking it, and pointing it forward and Nicole loses herself for a moment.

( _”You ever get bored of the shotgun?” Nicole asks. And Waverly just laughs._ )

( _”The only way I could get bored of the shotgun is if I got the flamethrower that’s been on my Christmas list for an awfully long time,” And it’s Nicole’s turn to laugh._ )

( _They kiss. She tastes like strawberry lip gloss and possibilities._ )

Nicole cocks her own gun, hand still shaking. It was like her body was betraying her. The lack of sleep, the lack of food, the lack of Waverly, it was wrecking her typically put-together demeanor. The only person who looked worst was –

“Headshots only, boys,” Wynonna says. “Slows Rev-heads down far longer than body shots until I get the last word,”

( _Wynonna. Wynonna Earp. Wynonna the-scary-protective-sister Earp. Wynonna Nicole’s-best-friend Earp. Wynonna. Wynonna. Wynonna. Pain and sarcasm wrapped up in a leather jacket and drenched in whiskey. Wynonna. Guilt and childhood bullshit beaten into a girl with such a bright light. Wynonna. Wynonna._ )

( _She’s impossible. She’s strong. She’s an Earp. Through and through._ )

( _Just like Waverly._ )

Wynonna places a steady hand on Nicole, strong and heavy. “Come on, Haught,”

( _Four days. Four days. Four days._ )

“Alright,” Nicole raises her gun up. Her hand is shaking. Shaking. Shaking. Everything is shaking. Her whole life is off-kilter and the booze and the exhaustion aren’t helping, and Wynonna knows. Wynonna knows because she’s running on two hours of sleep and a bottle of Jack. Wynonna knows because she wears grief like it’s another leather jacket in her closet. Wynonna knows because she lives and breathes tragedies.

( _Tragedies. Tragedies run in her blood, thick and painful. Ticking time bombs in her genetic code. That’s the real Earp curse._ )

They head into the building. Floor boards creaking under her feet. Chests raising and falling beside her. Erratic heartbeat in her ears.

( _She thinks of the massacre at Pussy Willows. She thinks of the symbol. She thinks of crimson, red and thick. She thinks of Waverly. She thinks of Waverly, another pawn, another toy in Bulshar’s game. She thinks of Waverly, her beautiful smile and face, frozen, caught in a look of panic. Frozen._ )

( _She thinks of Waverly, body laying still among the carnage, like she was ordinary. Like she was nothing. Like she wasn’t the most important thing in Nicole’s life._ )

They head into the building. Nicole is behind Dolls and Wynonna. Doc is behind her. Jeremy is in the car. And they’ve all worked together for about a year now, but this time it’s weird. It’s weird and wrong, because there’s a piece of a puzzle missing, and Nicole is supposed to be the rock. And Wynonna is supposed to be sarcastic. And Dolls is supposed to try to hide his smile and blush. And Doc is supposed is supposed to be wisecracking and charming. But they’re not. They’re not. They’re not.

They’re like animals on edge. They’re on their last legs. They’re on little sleep, little food, little rest, little, little, little. They’re on so little. And all they need is _her_.

But the building is empty. No Revenants. Nothing to shoot. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

( _If Waverly was here, there would have been no mistake in the research. They all know it._ )

\---

Nicole sits in her house. Lights off. Calamity Jane is at Nedley’s. He knew she was having a hard time even taking care of herself. Taking care of a cat was on another level. Wynonna’s asleep upstairs. And if she isn’t, she’s drinking, drinking, drinking. Then, she’ll be asleep.

Being at the homestead is too hard. Everything reminds her of Waverly.

( _The scent. The decorations. The pictures. The feelings. The memories._ )

Nicole sits in her house and she spins Bulshar’s ring around. Spins it around. Spins and spins.

\---

“You two get any sleep?” Doc asks as he enters the house with a bag of takeout and eyes every bit as tired as Nicole feels.

“Yeah. Few hours,” Nicole lies. Her head hit the pillow at three in the morning. Her mind went to the beach, went to paradise, but reality leaked in. Reality and it’s fuckery leaked in and turned the beach to toxic, poisoning everything. Reality leaked in, and there were symbols carved into Waverly’s skin. And there was blood pooling from their drinks, and the ocean was dark, murky, uninviting, and angry. Angry and ready. She couldn’t sleep after that. She couldn’t.

And Doc knew it. But he said nothing.

Wynonna, though, slept like a baby. Drinking certainly helped. It was like the days of exhaustion finally caused her to collapse for one night and one night only. There was no screaming upstairs, no smashed vases or lamps. It was quiet. It was quiet, and Wynonna was asleep.

But Wynonna doesn’t answer. She’s drinking her coffee, eyes trained to the map. “Have we checked here yet?”

Nicole looks over. A big map. Map of the Ghost River Triangle. Red pins all over. “No,” Nicole says. “No. Want to head over there now?”

“It’s like you read my mind, Haught,” Wynonna says.

“Ladies, I brought breakfast!” Doc shouts out, but Nicole is already grabbing her jacket and her gun.

“And it’ll be here when we get back, but Waverly won’t be,” Nicole snaps. “Now you coming or not?”

Doc nods, accepting defeat. He lowers his hat and storms out to the truck.

\---

( _”Bobo had said he promised Waverly to the demon Clootie as a wife,” Doc had told them on the first day. “That must be where she is,”_ )

( _Bulshar. Bulshar. Bulshar. Fucking Bulshar. Him and his cult. Him and his evil. And his curses. And his fuckery._ )

( _Nicole was going to send him to Hell with or without Peacemaker._ )

\---

Nicole lets her hand dangle out the window as Wynonna drives with a heavy foot on the gas and eyes narrowed. The car jumps at every bump. The car squeaks at every turn. The wear and tear of being used relentlessly was getting to it, but Nicole didn’t care. She didn’t care. Her eyes were trained on Purgatory. On seeing the kids go to the school. On seeing Champ and his beer buddies teetering out of the bar. On seeing the regulars and the citizens go about and live their lives while Nicole’s life felt like it was being torn apart brick by brick.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

Waverly was Purgatory. Waverly was the Poker Spectacular and Shorty’s and Purgatory High. Waverly was Purgatory, but Purgatory just kept going on without her.

It made Nicole sick.

\---

( _Nicole cannot remember who she was without the Earps. Without this crazy. Without Waverly. But she knows she likes this Nicole better. And now that she knows who she is with Waverly, who Waverly is, she doesn’t want to be apart from her._ )

( _If soulmates are real, Waverly is Nicole’s. Maybe in another life, things are easier. Maybe instead of hunting Waverly down, Nicole is hunting down a good preschool for their kids. Maybe they hold hands and cook together and read scary novels togethers. In an alternate universe, they must be together and happy. Not separate. Not dying. Not kidnapped. Not scared shitless. Not alone._ )

( _Nicole wishes she lived in that reality. This reality is too hard right now._ )

\---

Nicole steps out of the car. Her feet crunch against the thin layer of snow.

( _Waverly missed the first snowfall of the season._ )

( _Fuck._ )

She turns her flashlight on and sticks her pistol out and she walks out into the woods. Wynonna and Doc are behind her, eyes searching, combing over everything.

“If we find her – “

( _If. If. If. If. If. If. If. If._ )

“I’m going to buy her all the weirdass textbooks she wants,” Wynonna grumbles.

“I am going to treat her to a nice meal. Homecooked and began, just like she likes it,” Doc says softly.

“I’m going to marry her,”

Things go quiet. Eyes are on her. Silent and quiet and staring and thinking.

They pretend they didn’t hear Nicole.

( _That’s okay. Because Nicole pretends she didn’t hear her heart break in her throat._ )

( _Nicole is getting better and better with pretending. Pretending she’s okay. Pretending everything will work itself out. Pretending, pretending, pretending._ )

\---

They don’t find anything. Nicole’s cheeks are red and her chest hurts, and they found nothing. Nothing. Nothing. They don’t drive to Nicole’s house for breakfast. No. They drive to the office.

Nedley suspended Nicole for her own good on the second day, but BBD doesn’t care. BBD doesn’t care she comes in half-dead, half-drunk, and ready to die, ready to throw her life on the line, ready to sacrifice herself for Waverly.

( _Anything for Waverly._ )

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

They care. They give her concerned looks. They try to feed her, get her to sleep. But they know Waverly is more important. More important than all of them. So they don’t cut her out. They don’t suspend her. They give her a seat at the table.

Nicole rifles through Waverly’s old files, sitting at the conference table, and trying to think. Jeremy is working on something. Dolls is out, searching for leads or sleep. Wynonna is drinking, is reading, is a flurry of manic ideas and thoughts that come bumbling out of her mouth.

She looks for anything. Anything on the Widows, on Clootie, anything, anything, anything.

The wife of Bulshar. Wife of Bulshar. The Wives of –

“Where’s the wedding chapel where the Widows got married?” Nicole says, jumping up.

“Off on Old Lyme street a little ways out,” Wynonna says. “Why? You want to go – “ But she stops mid-joke. She stops mid-joke, eyes wide and bugging out of her head. “You don’t think that – “

Nicole nods vigorously. “I just hope to God we’re not too late. You grab the boys, I’m heading out there!”

\---

Nicole is thankful Nedley didn’t confiscate the police cruiser and she knows it isn’t very legal for a suspended officer to be driving one of these over hundred through Purgatory with the sound of the siren ripping through the serenity of the town, but Nicole doesn’t care.

( _She can hear the wedding march, see Waverly all dolled up in white, beautiful and perfect and pristine._ )

( _And then she sees Bulshar, ugly and cruel and monstrous. She sees the symbol, sharp and burning._ )

She presses harder on the gas, grabs the steering wheel even tighter like it was Bulshar’s throat instead. She didn’t care that she didn’t have a magical gun or immortality or dragon powers. She didn’t care that she was just a flatfooted local cop. She didn’t care.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

She could see the church just up ahead. Big. Tall. Wooden. Painted white with cracks and vines and weathered from time. She could see the church. Big oak doors, wide open like an invitation.

It was the lack of sleep.

It was the lack of food.

It was the lack of Waverly.

But suddenly, Nicole is pulling the steering wheel hard to the right and the cruiser is charging toward the open doors. And as the cruiser enters the church, all Nicole can see, can feel, can focus on is Bulshar, smug and cruel and standing at the altar. She turns the car toward. It’s a quick jerk, but it feels like hours. And she sees his eyes widen as she presses on the gas.

And then, there’s nothing but blackness as Nicole’s cruiser plows into the wall.

\---

“Haught? Haught?”

Nicole opens her eyes, blinking wildly. Her head feels sticky. So does her hands. The windshield is cracked – a huge post of wood is sticking out and ripping through the passenger’s side. There’s smoke billowing out from the front. There’s a body ahead, bended and contorted.

“Nicole?” It’s soft. It’s warm. And for a second, Nicole thinks it’s Waverly. But she looks up, and it’s Wynonna.

“Haught, did you just fucking run over Bulshar, the big bad demon, with a police cruiser?”

Nicole doesn’t say anything. Everything hurts. Everything is sore. And her ribs might be busted. She blinks though and looks at Bulshar, crumpled, splinters of the church, of the wood, tearing through him.

“We have to hurry. You only slowed him down,” Wynonna reminds her. “He might look dead, but that’s a fucking demon. Those things don’t obey the laws of morality like the rest of us unlucky sons of bitches,”

Nicole nods. Her left eye is obscured by the blood dripping from her scalp. But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care as warm, red drips from her bloody face. She doesn’t care that there’s glass in her hair, her arms are cut up, and her ribs ache horribly.

“Waverly?” Nicole finally croaks. It’s the only thing she can say. The only thing worth saying as she leans against the cruiser, finally standing up.

“Come on. There’s a basement to this church,” Wynonna says, taking Nicole and letting the redhead lean against her. She wraps an arm around Nicole, protecting her. “And we don’t even have to run them over. We have a magic gun,”

“That’s a…” Nicole inhales sharply as she takes the first step. Walking isn’t too bad, but her left knee is swollen and aching horribly. The only reason why she can walk is the adrenaline pouring through her, rippling through her.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

“I thought you were supposed to be the more reasonable one and I was the dumbass,” Wynonna deadpans as she kicks the basement door down.

“Someone had to…” Nicole shifts her weight to her less damaged leg. “Someone had to pick up the slack,”

Wynonna nods. “You should stay here, Haught. Top of the stairs,”

“No. No. I’m not letting you go down there alone,” Nicole grabs the gun from her belt. “I can… I can still shoot,”

“You can barely move,”

“I can shoot,”

Wynonna looks at her, big eyes full of worry, of sadness, of trauma, of saying goodbye to people too young and too soon. But Nicole knows she had the same mantra running in her head. That she has the same drive, the same motivation, the same amount to lose.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

“Okay,” Wynonna sighs, giving in. “Okay. But you stay behind me. And don’t fall down the stairs. And don’t die,”

“I can only do two of those three things,”

Wynonna ignores her and heads down.

\---

Wynonna turns the corner of stairs quickly, and suddenly everything is going to shit. Bullets are firing. Nicole can hear the gates of Hell opening, smell the sulfur, and feel the flames. And when she turns the corner, she knows one Revenant is gone, set far, far below. And when she turns the corner, she sees men with guns pointed – five of them – all at Wynonna and her as they take shelter behind the flipped table.

And when she turns the corner, she sees Waverly.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

Nicole sees Waverly.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

Brown hair. Brown eyes.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

Fair skin, bruised and a cut lip. Gagged and restrained and screaming.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

She sees the face she dreams about. She sees the body she knows intimately. She sees the person she loves.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

And Nicole as she stands, mouth agape, for just a split second –

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

Just a second of her mind on Waverly Earp,

( _Waverly. Waverly. BANG_ )

Nicole crumples to the floor. The impact of the shot through her shoulder sending her flying back. She hears Wynonna shout something, hear the gates of Hell. But her eyes, cloudy and unfocused, are on Waverly. There are tears running down her beautiful face. She’s trembling in her restraints. She’s trying to break free, break apart, run to Nicole.

( _Nicole. Nicole. Nicole._ )

The pain is unimaginable. It’s consuming. It consumes every ounce of fear, every ounce of happiness, of sadness, of anger. It consumer it and supplies more pain. Pain. Pain. Sharp and awful and overwhelming. Blood is oozing from the gaps between her fingers. Wynonna is shouting something at her.

Wynonna is shouting and Wynonna is overwhelmed. Four Revenants with guns, shooting at her. One of the guns are trained on Waverly’s scalp.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

And there’s Nicole, bleeding out, blood falling onto a church floor.

( _If there’s a God, does he look down on the Earps? Does he guard and protect them? Does he love them?_ )

( _Or does he see no difference in their cruelty and in the Revenants cruelty? Does he see no good guys and no bad guys but see the blood, the carnage, the murder each side takes part in?_ )

( _If there’s a God, does he care about little Purgatory? Or is this a game to him?_ )

( _There is no God in Purgatory. Not here. But there’s an angel. Her name is Waverly. Waverly Earp. And Nicole is going to die for her._ )

Nicole is dying. She can feel it. Everything is fading. She can’t hear Wynonna or Waverly or the shouting of revenants. Her vision is getting blurrier and blurrier. Her heartbeat is the only thing she can hear, loud but slow, so very slow.

Nicole is dying. She can feel it.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

Tears are running down Waverly’s face. Waverly’s shaking. There’s a gun to Waverly’s head. The Revenant is screaming. Wynonna is crying. Nicole is dying.

And that’s when she puts the ring on.

\---

( _It calls her to when it’s loud. It’s voice is soft and whispering. Warm and charming. It calls her to when it’s loud, but now the world is silent and it screams. Screams so loud Nicole’s world shakes._ )

(And Nicole, Nicole, she listens. She listens.)

Nicole puts the ring on and everything changes.

Everything.

The power. It’s like a soft humming in the back of her head. The sound of a white noise machine while you sleep. It’s soft, but it’s there, and she hears it. She hears it as she presses her back to the wall, still bleeding, still hurt, but unphased. There is no pain in her joints. There is no pain in her body. She just feels the humming of the power, vibrating through her.

( _It calls for her when she’s weak. It calls her for her when she weak, but now she is strong. Undeniably so._ )

And she walks forward.

The Revenants fire again. A bullet tears through her upper arm. She doesn’t feel it. She doesn’t feel it. And then, she runs.

She grabs the Revenant that shot her by throat and as her hands crush his thorax, as his eyes bug out, and his oxygen cuts off. Her hands are getting hot. Her hand, wearing the ring, is getting hot. Fire hot. Hell hot. Orange flames are flickering, and she gives him a last squeeze before he turns to ash.

She hears Wynonna shoot Peacemaker. Hears Wynonna shout something. Hears Waverly’s cry for help.

But she can only see red. She can only see Revenants. She rushes forward. Her right arm tears through the Revenant’s ribs like its butter meeting a hot knife, and he explodes into ash, ash that clouds her vision and fills her lungs, but she is relentless.

( _It is relentless. It’s hungry. Hungry. Hungry. And in return, it gives power. Power. Power. Power of Bulshar._ )

She kills the last one just as Wynonna cocks Peacemaker and points it, leaving the gun, still glowing, still bright, pointed at Nicole. Wynonna lowers the gun like she hadn’t see anything.

( _But they both saw. They both saw. They saw the gun glow as it was pointed at Nicole’s red hair and brown eyes and fair skin and police uniform. They saw it. They saw it._ )

“Babygirl,” Wynonna rushes over to Waverly cutting the ropes, taking off the gag, and grabbing her sister so tight, Nicole is sure Waverly is the next one to explode to ash. But she doesn’t explode. She doesn’t disappear in a bright explosion of Hell flames. She hugs Wynonna back just as fiercely, just as relieved, and then her eyes go to Nicole.

“Baby,” Waverly’s voice sound raw, weak from screaming. And Nicole wishes she did more than run over Bulshar. She wishes she did a Hell of a lot more. “Baby, you’re bleeding. You’re bleeding a lot,”

“Yeah, and it doesn’t help you just ran over Bulshar,” Wynonna says, finally letting her dark eyes take the redhead in. “You should sit down. Apply pressure to those wounds. We need to call an ambulance before – “

“I’m fine,” Nicole says.

“You were shot twice and were just in car crash,” Wynonna frowns. “You look like you’re one gust of wind from completely falling apart. There’s no way in Hell you’re okay, Nicole. You could barely stand before,”

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” And Nicole strides over and kisses Waverly. Desperation. Love. Everything and anything. It all pours into the kiss. And Waverly grabs Nicole, grabs her tight, never wanting to let her go, and Nicole grabs Waverly. Grabs Waverly and vows to never leave this woman, to always protect her until the day she dies.

( _She doesn’t taste like pineapples. She isn’t wonderful tanned with sun-kissed skin. But she’s Waverly. And she’s perfect. Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

“Nicole,” Waverly whispers against her skin. But when they part, Waverly’s white dress is stained red. Red with Nicole’s blood. “Nicole, we need to call someone,”

“I’m fine. I feel fine,”

“Baby, you’re scaring me. You should see yourself. You don’t look fine at all,”

“It’s the ring,” Wynonna finally speaks up. “That shit is giving you some major Bulshar, voodoo vibes. You need to take that shit off,”

“Don’t!” Waverly snaps. “Don’t. If it’s the ring, then that the one thing keeping her standing. We should leave it on until the hospital,” And Waverly looks up, looks up at Nicole. She’s beautiful. She’s so beautiful.

( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

“You’ll go to the hospital, right?” Waverly asks.

“Yes,” Nicole nods. “Of course,” She might not feel it, but she knows she’s injured. Badly.

( _Where you go, I go._ )

“But I just – I love you much, baby,” Nicole whispers, pressing her forehead against Waverly’s. And she knows there’s blood, warm and sticky covering her own, and she knows it’s going to be on Waverly’s when they part, but every touch feels amazing. Feels strong. Feels warmer than the power running through her body from the ring.

“I love you, Nicole. I knew you and ‘Nonna would find me. I knew it. I knew it. I told them. I told them and they didn’t listen, but you did. You found me,” Waverly whispers, pushing Nicole’s red hair back.

“I’ll always find you,”

Waverly’s eyes are shinning with tears and she chuckles softly, wiping them away, before she finally asks, “Did you really run over Bulshar?”

“Yeah. For you,”

“That’s incredibly sweet,”

“I thought so,”

“Alright. Alright,” Nicole can hear Wynonna roll her eyes. It’s a gift. “Come on. Quick to the truck before Bulshar fucking comes back,” Wynonna grabs Waverly by the hand and pulls her upward, up to the stairs. And Nicole follows the two, following the trail of blood she had left when had gone down the stairs, following dark and brown hair to the truck.

She’s following. She’s following.

And then she stops.

She stops.

But they keep going.

She stops as a chill runs down her spine. She turns over her shoulder.

Bulshar.

( _Symbols. Red. Carnage. Symbols. Red. Red. Red._ )

“You have my ring, Miss Haught,” His voice sounds like sandpaper grating against Nicole’s ears. “And my legacy as a child of my cult,”

“Fuck your legacy,” Nicole snaps.

Bulshar’s lip twitches, but his face remains stoic, remains impassive. His eyes grow angrier, grow redder. “The only reason why you can speak is because I allow you to speak. The only reason why you can breathe is because I allow you to breathe. Don’t forget that, Miss Haught,” Bulshar rasps. “You are wearing my ring. You have siphoned merely an ounce of my powers, of my abilities. Just an ounce, and you are unstoppable. Imagine how much I must have, Miss Haught,”

“You’re not going to win, you know,” Nicole says, because it’s all she can. “You can’t win,”

“Because I am going against the Earps?” Bulshar smirks.

“No, because you’re going against _me_ ,” Nicole whispers. “And I always survive,”

“NICOLE!”

Nicole turns around. She sees Waverly, standing outside the truck, waving ridiculously. Nicole looks back, back at Bulshar, but he’s gone. His image absolutely gone like he was never there at all.

Nicole looks down at the ring.

She’s the survivor.

She will survive this.

She will survive anything.

And so will Wynonna and so will Waverly. She’s willing to bet her life on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun with this prompt. Hope y’all enjoy it! And if you have prompts, hit me up at gayywords. Or if you want to scream about Wynonna Earp. 
> 
> Shout out to @deputy-haught-sauce on Tumblr for giving me the prompt that jumpstarted this whole fic! Thanks for the love and support! You’re awesome!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “where Nicole's in the hospital and it's just fluffy, but also angsty because she was hurt so badly? Waverly is so pissed that Nicole allowed herself to get this hurt, and Nicole would honestly do it again? Wynonna is telling Waverly about how Nicole honestly hit Bulshar with her fucking patrol vehicle, and Waverly is seriously upset and worried about her girlfriend and her state of mind and body since the cult stuff started up?” + “Waverly and Jerremy finds out that the way to end the curse is to not just send the 77 back to hell but also end Bulshar and his entire bloodline. But then they also found out that Nicole is a descendant of Bulshar that was why she survived the cult.“

The hospital lights are white and bright and shinning overhead. Nicole is hooked to a bunch of machines. Machines that beep, that hum, that keep her alive, but it’s the ring that sustains her.

( _It’s voice is soft, whispering, murmuring._ )

Waverly is with the doctors. Doctors that are checking her vitals. That are putting her broken arm in a sling and bandaging her wrists that are red and swollen and bloody from being restrained.

( _”I’ll be right back,” Waverly says. Her fingers ghost along Nicole’s cheek. “Don’t you do anything stupid,”_ )

Nicole hates how weak she feels without Waverly, without seeing her, without being near her, because it’s been four days. Four days. Four days of a Waverly-less existence and the thought of being apart from her for even a few minutes hurts.

( _Nothing else hurts though. The ring sustains her._ )

Wynonna is with Waverly, feeling similarly. And it’s comforting to Nicole that at least someone is with Waverly. That’s all that matters. That someone is with Waverly.

Nicole eyes go to the ring.

( _Bulshar, Bulshar, Bulshar_ )

She takes it off. Her slender fingers pull at the metal, but the ring doesn’t budge. The crimson jewel does not move. It’s stuck. Glued on. A permanent fixture of Nicole’s hand.

Nicole takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and tries to fall to sleep before the worry, the concern, came flooding her system.

\---

Wynonna comes into the room first. Her dark eyes with deep bags and exhaustion.

( _I’m going with my baby sister,” Wynonna had said. “You don’t quit on me, Haught. Okay? You and me. We’re ending this shit so you stay right there and you let them treat you,”_ )

“How do you feel?” Nicole asks as Wynonna, with a loud dramatic sigh, plops onto the hospital chair.

“I think I’m supposed to be asking you that, Haught,”

“Well?”

Wynonna closes her eyes tight. Everything in her body is tense. She heaves another loud sigh. “I’m tired, Haught. I’m tired of Bulshar, of sitting in the hospital room, of trying to protect my sister constantly. It’s… I’m exhausted,”

“I know,” Nicole whispers softly.

( _If Nicole closes her eyes, she can picture Wynonna – dark hair blowing in the wind – eyes trained to the view as she leans against the porch, surveying the homestead. She’s majestic. She’s strong. She’s impossible. A superhero disguised as a fuck up. A fuck up who’s a superhero. Wynonna. Wynonna Wynonna._ )

Wynonna pops an eye open. “Hitting Bulshar with a car was quick thinking,”

Nicole doesn’t say anything. She just watches Wynonna.

“It’s weird. You know, I look at you and I see the chick that made me drive to three different furniture shops to buy a couch because you couldn’t decide, and, in the end, you ended up getting it at Ikea. I see the chick who eats gluten-free pizza and whatever vegan stuff my sister makes because all you want to do is make her happy. I see the dumbass who’s all good and kindhearted and bullshit,” Wynonna runs her hand through her dark hair, ruffling it. “And it’s just… That’s the same girl who ran a demon over with a car, who got shot twice, who’s wearing a demon ring…”

Nicole’s hand twitches. She hopes Wynonna doesn’t notice.

( _But she knows she does. She does. She does._ )

“I’d do anything for Waverly,” Nicole says softly. “I’d do anything to protect her. And to protect you,”

Wynonna is now the quiet one. Dark eyes. Dark eyes.

( _They remind Nicole of the ocean just after a storm._ )

“You’re my family, Earp,” Nicole croaks. “You’re my fucking family,”

“They giving you the good stuff, huh?” Wynonna smiles, pointing to the IV bag, but her eyes are warm, are soft, are crinkling. She waits a beat. She waits until the joke falls from her lips before she says, “You’re my family too, Haught,”

“Thanks, Earp,” Nicole says. She lowers herself back in the bed, letting her head hit the pillow, letting everything fade away.

“You’re still wearing it,”

( _The ring. The ring. The ring._ )

( _It doesn’t like Wynonna. It doesn’t like her. It tingles. It doesn’t like her._ )

“I can’t take it off,” Nicole admits.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t take it off,” Nicole says again. She tries, pulling at the metal, digging her fingers into it, pulling and pulling, but it doesn’t budge. “It’s stuck,”

“Well, put some butter on your hand – “

“It’s not like that, Wynonna. It feels… It feels like it’s a part of me,”

Wynonna doesn’t say anything. She just crosses her arm and sinks into the chair for a long moment, eyes trained on the ceiling.

( _Wynonna. Wynonna. The weight of the world fits poorly on her shoulders. It creaks and it grates at her leather jacket. It’s heavy and Nicole can see it._ )

“The last thing I ever wanted was to be the heir. I wanted to get rid of it as quickly as possible. Pass it to Willa. Just pass it off to whoever and whatever, but…” Wynonna takes a deep breath. “I’m good at it. I’m good at being an heir of this damn curse. But… But days like today, I wish I just was trapped in an office somewhere or still traveling the world or just anywhere but here,”

“I think the times of being normal are over, Earp,” Nicole says. They are long over. For Nicole. For Waverly. For Wynonna. The times stopped the second they entered Purgatory. The second the Earps were born into their curse like kids in their parent’s oversized clothing as they tried to fit Ward’s shoes. Normalcy was over. Nicole couldn’t leave. Too far gone with Waverly. Too far gone with Bulshar. Too far gone. Too far gone.

“That ring is bad news, Haught,” Wynonna finally says. “Really fucking bad news. You can’t have that shit on. It’s connecting you with Bulshar, giving you some of powers,”

( _The ring. The ring. The ring._ )

“It’s fine,” Nicole says dismissively. “Jeremy and Waverly will find a way and I’ll pop it off and stick it in a jewelry case. It’ll be fine,”

“I don’t think so. It’s…” Wynonna shakes her head. “Connections are two-way. If you’re connecting with Bulshar, Bulshar is connecting with you,”

Nicole doesn’t say anything. She looks at the red. She looks at the ring. She looks at it as it shines under the florescent hospital lights.

“I’m going to go. Gotta call the boys and make sure they know we’re here and not at the church,” Wynonna says, standing up. “I need to get something to eat before I starve over here. I’ll pick you up something fatty,” Nicole nods appreciatively. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’m bringing you food and I’m getting the boys and Waves will be in soon,” And Wynonna is looking at her oddly. Looking at her with a million thoughts racing in that head.

( _Sarcasm, whiskey, and dark, knowing eyes. Wynonna. Wynonna. Wynonna._ )

She heads out, walking, boots clicking along tiles, and Nicole sinks further into the bed, further and further into herself. The ring stops tingling, stops sending shivers down her spine.

( _It doesn’t like Wynonna. The ring. The ring. It doesn’t like Wynonna one bit._ )

\---

Nicole closes her eyes and falls asleep. Drugs pumping through her. Her body humming with powers, with abilities, that were borrowed, that were stolen.

She dreams of carnage, of the massacres, of the files, of the mountains of files and pictures she combed through.

She dreams of Bulshar. He’s standing in front of the car of the police cruiser, hands on the hood of the car.

“ _You breathe because I breathe. You live because I live._ ”

Nicole wakes up with a start. The room is dark and there’s no one around, but the ring is bright, is glowing, is awake. The ring is awake and it’s hungry.

\---

Waverly is entering the room. And Nicole’s breath catches in her throat. Nicole’s breath catches, because Waverly is floating in the room. Like an angel. Like an angel. Floating in. Her brown hair is cascading. Her brown eyes, warm and big. Her hands. Her hands touching the door frame. Her hands leaning against the bed. Her hands pulling at the blanket. Her hands running along Nicole’s face.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” Waverly whispers. And there are tears welling up in her eyes.

“I look that bad, huh?”

“Oh, Nicole,” Waverly leans down, pressing a kiss to Nicole’s forehead. “Nicole, you can’t do this anymore,”

Nicole tenses. “What do you – “

“You can’t throw yourself at everything dangerous for me. I can’t – “ And there are tears falling down her face. Tears falling.

( _Her angel is crying._ )

“I can’t handle this. I can’t handle seeing you in this bed every time because you keep – “ And Waverly chokes on her own sobs. Her whole body shaking. Everything shaking. She grabs Nicole’s hand, tight, holding it tight. “You have to promise me,”

“What?”

“You’ll stop,”

“Stop? I’m never going to stop protecting you. I love you, Waverly Earp,”

“No! Nicole!” Waverly tears away, pacing around the hospital room. She’s a storm. A storm of emotions that are ripping through her. “You can’t keep sacrificing yourself for me! You need to take care of yourself too! You need to _protect_ yourself too, because I can’t handle – “ Waverly tries to catch her breath, tries to breathe, but she’s strangling herself with her tears, with her emotion. “I can’t handle the day where I’m going to be alive because you going to be _dead_. I can’t live without you. I can’t. I can’t,”

“Baby,” Nicole says loudly. “Baby, come here. Come here. Look. Feel me. Feel me,” And Nicole grabs Waverly’s hands leading them to her chest, letting Waverly’s hand rest on her collar bone and feel her heartbeat. “I’m okay. Okay? I’m okay. And I promise I’ll take care of myself. I promise, but I can’t promise that I’ll stop protecting you. I’m always going to pick you over me,”

“No. Stop. Don’t choose me over you. Choose _us_. Fight for _us_ ,” Waverly says. “You have to promise me,”

( _The ring is tingling again. Tingling as her hand brushes along Waverly’s skin._ )

“Okay. Okay,” Nicole nods. “Okay,”

\---

Nicole dreams of Waverly. Dreams of driving with Waverly, hair whipping in the air, windows rolled down, and the music blasting. She dreams of Waverly. She dreams and dreams, and then there’s a _BANG_.

Bulshar. Bulshar standing in front of her. Bulshar slamming his hands on the hood, bending the metal, stopping the car.

Nicole presses on the car. The engine roars. The engines roars, but the car doesn’t move. Bulshar holds the hood tighter.

“ _I want the Earps, Miss Haught. I want the Earps._ ” he growls. He growls and growls. And he releases his grip, the car roars forward, and Bulshar is gone and Waverly is gone and Nicole is screaming.

Nicole gasps, launching awake, gripping her chest, breathing heavy.

( _The ring is burning. The ring is glowing. The ring. The ring._ )

\---

Jeremy comes to visit after Nicole manages to stay awake. She spends her time watching Waverly who sleeps. Waverly had slept through Nicole’s nightmare, and Nicole had never been more grateful as she watched girlfriend sleep. But Jeremy comes in, clutching research, his big eyes wide and nervous.

“Nicole, Wynonna told me about the – Well, the _everything_ , but the ring. The ring. When did you get that?”

“Dolls trusted me with it,” Nicole says softly. “I wasn’t supposed to put it on,”

“For good reason,” Jeremy runs over to her side. “I’m sorry. I know you’re hurt, but, um, can I just?” He motions vaguely to her hands, and Nicole just shrugs. “Okay. Cool. Safe word is Pikachu,”

“Pikachu,” Nicole repeats. “Got it,”

Jeremy gingerly takes her hand and then looks at the ring for a long moment. “Uh, it’s a pretty,” he squeaks before he places his little fingers and pulls. And then he pulls a little tougher. And Nicole grits her teeth because she feels like her finger is about to pop out of it’s socket. But, no matter what Jeremy does, the ring doesn’t budge.

“Okay. Next strategy,” Jeremy digs in his bag.

“Butter?”

“Butter. It works like a charm,” And Jeremy is lathering Nicole’s fingers like it’s a piece of toast.

“Jeremy, I – “

Jeremy goes to pull again, but it’s slippery and one tug and Jeremy is losing his grip and falling on his back hard. Nicole normally would laugh, but for some reason, she just can’t. Her attention is elsewhere.

( _The ring. The ring. The ring._ )

“Nicole,” Jeremy says from the floor. “I need to tell you something,”

“Okay,” Nicole leans over a little so she can see him. He looks so small with his knees to his chest and his eyes big and bug-eyed. “What’s up?” she asks.

“Well, here’s the thing – You’re not going to like it,”

“What is it?”

“That ring… Bulshar’s Ring can only be worn by people with a connection to him,”

Nicole swallows thickly. “I had assumed,” She thought of the massacre. She’s a survivor. She survived him once. That must be the connection. It had –

“Connection, uh, as in either marriage or, um…. _genetic_ ,”

Nicole freezes. She must have misheard. “I’m sorry. What?” Her heart is beating a mile a minute. Jeremy’s eyes are bulging even more.

“Well, um, you have to be connected and you, well, you’re connected with him,” Jeremy says. “And it, well, it actually makes sense. I was looking into those cases. People who died in the massacre, and they were all… _connected_ to Bulshar too,”

“Why would a cult that worships a demon want to kill his…” Nicole can’t even finish that thought. Because the nausea is riding up. The world is spinning and everything is a mess. Her whole life is a mess.

( _Bulshar’s voice is ringing her ear._ )

“His…offspring, um, and anyone, uh, connected to him actually have a bit of his abilities, and the cult, well, they believed that by killing the offspring they were returning his power back to Bulshar, making him strong enough to return. And since… Since you’re a…”

Nicole closes her eyes tight. She can picture the beach. Picture Waverly sun-bathing. Picture the taste of pineapple-flavored kisses and the warmth of the sun on her skin. Nicole closes her tight, she goes to her happy place. She goes to her happy place, because she thought the hard part was over. But it’s not. It’s not.

( _Reality is trap. A trap. A fucking trap. It takes and it takes. And it takes. And it traps you, pulling you down, dragging you._ )

“Jeremy,” Nicole says, voice low. “Does anyone else know?”

“No! No! I didn’t – I didn’t want to be rude so I didn’t want to – “

“Don’t tell anyone,” Nicole decides.

“Nicole, I have to – “

“Fine. Then, let me tell Waverly,”

“Okay. Okay, but can – “ Jeremy picks himself up and clear his throat. “Uh, can I try to take the ring off with this magnet I just – “

“It’s not going to come off, Jeremy,” Nicole says. She looks down. It’s glowing on her skin.

( _The ring. The ring. Connections to Bulshar. Memories of massacres. Cults. All of this. Did God have fun orchestrating this? Did he stay up all night, pulling strings and watching his puppets jerk around? Was he smiling, looking down at Nicole, as she had to figure it all out?_ )

( _The ring. The ring. It was evil. Evil in a little bite-sized morsel, but she was connected to it. She was connected to Bulshar. She was connected to him. Connections. The ring. Connections._ )

Nicole felt like she was going to be sick.

\---

Nicole watches Waverly sleep. It’s relaxing. It’s relaxing to watch her girlfriend’s chest rise and fall. To see Waverly okay. To see Waverly sleep. To see Waverly living, existing, free and safe.

Waverly wakes up after an hour, yawning and stretching. “Morning, baby,” she whispers.

“Morning,” Nicole says. Looking at Waverly, everything feels right. Everything feels perfect.

( _The problems are fading. The problems are dropping, hiding in the back of her mind. Because it’s Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )

“Baby, I need to tell you something,” Nicole finally says. She lifts her hand so the ring is visible, so Waverly can see the crimson. “I…”

“You’re still wearing the ring,” Waverly says softly, but she knows.

( _It was the first thing Waverly noticed when she entered. Nicole knew it._ )

“I can’t take it off… Jeremy thinks it’s because… I have a connection with Bulshar,” Nicole says. Her voice cracks horribly. And she wants to cry or scream or get sick, but she’s looking at Waverly at those big brown eyes. “Baby, I think he might be right. I think I might be – “ And her body picks the former, because tears are running down her cheeks, staining her pale skin. “I think I might be related to that son of a – “ And she falls apart.

She falls apart.

It’s been days without Waverly. It’s been a day of torture, of powers, of shooting, and car crashes and chaos. It’s been a day of reunions, of pain, of childhood memories, of nightmares. It’s been a day.

And Nicole needs to fall apart. She has to fall apart, so she does. She falls apart, sobbing, falling into herself, folding herself up.

And Waverly is there.

Waverly is there.

Waverly is wrapping her up. Waverly is holding her. Waverly is squeezing her, Waverly is rubbing her, Waverly is rocking her. Waverly. Waverly. Waverly.

Waverly lets her fall apart.

( _The ring is quiet. The ring is soft. The ring lets her fall apart._ )

\---

Waverly takes her home, and Calamity Jane has been dropped off, and Nicole finally feels a little okay. The homestead protects her. The homestead. That’s home now.

Wynonna is there. She drives them home. She doesn’t even play her rock music or say anything. She drives and she’s quiet. She doesn’t say anything as Nicole holds Waverly, putting her head on Waverly’s head. They can’t stop touching each other. Holding each other. Being together.

“Waves, you mind hopping out for a second?” Wynonna says, turning to face the backseat, turning to face Nicole. “Haughtstuff and I have to have a word,”

“Okay,” Waverly says. She kisses Nicole before she exits the car. And the two watch as she goes, watch as she walks to the homestead, holding herself as a shiver runs up her spine.

The two are quiet. One in the backseat. One in the front seat. Both madly in love with Waverly Earp.

“Jeremy told me,” Wynonna says.

“I figured,”

“Jeremy also told me something else…”

Nicole closes her eyes and presses her head to the back of the chair. “I’m the heir to the Bulshar’s Cult,” She looks over at Wynonna. Tears in her eyes. “The two of us…” She motions to her friend. “We can’t both exist, can we?”

Wynonna shakes her head. “In the end, to break the curse… Bulshar, not even a drop of his blood, can exist and that means…”

“I figured,” Nicole wipes the tears on her sleeve.

( _She wonders if God knew. She wonders if God knew he designed her just for her to leave. For her to break hearts and leave._ ”

“I don’t want to,” Wynonna says.

“You have to,”

“There’s a loophole. I know it. And maybe you’re not – “

“But I am,” Nicole looks out the window. Look at Waverly as she waits on the porch for them, smiling softly to herself. “I’ll always pick her over myself,” She blinks back tears. “Don’t tell her. Will you? I just want some more time,”

“We’ll figure it out, Haught,”

Nicole nods and she looks over at Wynonna. There are tears in Wynonna’s eyes. Her brown eyes, big and sad.

( _She’s done this before. She’s said goodbye to family. Family she had to kill for the greater good._ )

“But if we don’t, do what you have to, Wynonna,”

“Always, Nicole. For Waverly,”

“For Waverly,” Nicole nods. She exits the car and forces a big smile as she wraps her girlfriend up in her arms.

For Waverly.

Always for Waverly. Anything for Waverly.

But for now, surviving was not important. Now, it was time to live. To live for herself, to live for the Earps, to live to see Bulshar in the ground. And whatever happened, she knew she’d enjoy every second of her reality with Waverly Earp.

Anything for Waverly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love y’all. You give me such angsty prompts! I love it! But my heart hurts so I’ll be sure to write some fluff soon and update Lovesick! 
> 
> Thanks for the love and support, you guys. Check me out on gayywords @ Tumblr!


	3. Chapter 3

It’s hard to accept you’re going to die soon.

Nicole found a certain level of peace knowing that her death would allow Alice to return to Purgatory, would allow Waverly to live without ever being kidnapped or hurt again, would allow everyone to be safe.

But Nicole didn’t want to die.

She would die for Waverly, die a for a cause.

But it didn’t mean she wanted to, that she wasn’t afraid, that she wasn’t scared out of her mind.

( _She can still see Peacemaker glowing. The barrel of the gun just briefly pointing in her direction. It’s a beautiful golden color, but in the hands of Wynonna, it is the door to Hell. Nicole knew she shouldn’t find beauty in that but she did._ )

( _Wynonna was beautiful with the glow of Hell fire glistening in her eyes._ )

Ever since that conversation in the truck, Wynonna had constantly been around Nicole.

Like a friend.

( _Like the Grim Reaper)_

She watched Nicole like she was wondering if Nicole was going to run, but running would just postpone the inevitable, running would rob her of precious minutes with Waverly, running would hurt everyone. No, Nicole would not run. She would greet death with open arms. 

_( _For Waverly. For Wynonna. For Alice. For herself._ )_

She spent her days glued to Waverly’s side whether that was watching Waverly read or see a movie or listen to music. She watched Waverly cook breakfast in the morning. She would wake up and watch as the sun rose, covering Waverly’s naked form in gold. She watched as Waverly laughed, the way her eyes crinkled, the way her nose wrinkled, the way her whole face lit up. She watched as Waverly. 

_( _”Baby, you’re being weird,” Waverly said one day over a glass of wine. “Are you okay?”_ )_

_( _”I never want to be apart from you again,” Nicole said._ )_

_( _”Oh, baby. I swear, I’m not going anywhere,”_ )_

_( _But Nicole was. Nicole was going. It was just a question of when._ )_

Dolls and Doc kept the hunt for Bulshar up, combing through ever spot they knew where he might be located, but Jeremy? But Wynonna? The hunt was there. The desire, the motivation, the drive – it was all there, it was all present, but there was hesitation. 

_( _Because finding and killing Bulshar meant Nicole was done._ )_

Nicole still had the ring on. She couldn’t get it off. The ring. The damn ring. A physical symbol, a physical reminder, of her horrendous connection to a demon. A demon who was as connected to her as she was to him. Her blood resembled his. Her powers resembled his. All of it triggered by this damn ring. 

_( _The damn ring. The ring. The ring._ )_

_\---_

It’s late and Nicole is still bent over books. Waverly’s at home, sleeping. But she can’t be home right now. She can’t sleep right now. There’s too much on her mind. So she goes down to the office, grabs some research on Bulshar, and tries to figure it out. 

_( _Nicole feels stupid as exhaustion blurs the words and meanings together._ )_

“Gah, Nicole – God, you scared me,” Jeremy laughs nervously. “What are – What are you looking at?” He sits beside her, nervously playing with his hands. 

Nicole pushes the books over to him instead of answering. Her body needs sleep, but her brain is too active. It’s like she’s at war with herself.

Jeremy looks at the book before he pales a little, mouth agape, “Oh. Ohhhh,” He pushes the book back. “I, uh… I’m sorry,” 

“It’s not your fault,” Nicole says softly. “You didn’t do this,” 

“I know, but if I hadn’t read that passage – “ 

“Then, we would never defeat Bulshar and Alice would never get to go home and the Earps would be cursed,” Nicole shakes her head. She’s not smart like Jeremy and Waverly. But she knows better. She knows better. And she knows the only smart choice is for her die. It’s the right choice. “No, Jeremy. I’m glad you found out. It gives me a chance to say goodbye,” 

_( _Everything she does recently is a goodbye. Every touch, every word, every longing look. It’s all goodbye. It’s all goodbye. And Waverly has started to notice._ )_

“I’ve – Well, I’ve been looking for a loophole,” 

“There isn’t any,” 

“Uh, well. You’re right. Kind of,” Jeremy stands up and looks at his own research complied in thin little manilla folders. It isn’t much and it certainly isn’t impressive, but it about sums up Nicole’s entire experience researching this man. “Look! Right here – ‘ _With every heir, Bulshar stores a piece of his powers within them_ ,” He gasps with realization. “You’re a – Nicole, you’re a horcrux!” 

“A what?” 

“A horcrux. Okay, in Harry Potter, Voldemort and Harry were connected because a bit of Voldemort’s soul was in Harry,” 

“Okay,” Nicole frowns, confused. “So how do you stop a horcrux?” 

“You…” Jeremy’s face falls. “You kill it,” 

Nicole nods. She expected as much. “Thanks, Jeremy for trying but – “ 

“Hey! No! If there was a loophole for Harry, there’s one for you!” 

“This isn’t some fantasy book. This is my life, Jeremy,” Nicole says with a mirthless laugh. “And, fuck Jeremy. If my past is any indication, this isn’t going to end well for me. Because nothing ends well for me, but, God, I’m used to it. It’s okay so just – “ She takes a deep breath. Her hands are shaking. Everything is shaking. “Just stop getting my hopes up,” And with that, she walks out. 

_\---_

Waverly is waiting for her when she gets back. 

“Nic, what’s wrong?” she asks, sitting up. 

“Nothing. Just a hard case,” Nicole says. 

“Is it…” And Waverly’s afraid to speak. And Nicole hates that. She hates that her girlfriend is walking on eggshells around her, because Waverly might not know what is wrong, but she knows something is wrong. “Is it Bulshar?” 

“Yeah,” Nicole says. 

_( _Sometimes, she dreams that she tells Waverly. She tells Waverly and Waverly wipes away her tears and tells her it’s going to be okay._ )_

“We’ll find him,” Waverly says. “Okay? We’re going to find him and put him down for good. He’s never going to hurt us again,” 

“Okay,” Nicole says with a strained smile. “Okay. Thank you, baby,” 

_\---_

Jeremy, Wynonna, and Nicole – being the only ones who knew the truth – met occasionally for breakfast to brainstorm while the others continued the hunt at the office. 

Nicole would order coffee with ridicules amounts of sugar. Wynonna would murder a stack of pancakes, and Jeremy would fiddle with his journal, drawing shapes in the margin while he rambled. It was nice. It was normal. For them. And it was nice to be with people who knew. People who knew everything. 

“Nicole is a horcrux so how do we – “ Jeremy bounces his pen against his scalp as he mumbles to himself. 

“Horcrux?” Wynonna quirks a brow. 

“Harry Potter reference,” Nicole explains. 

“Ah,” 

“If we killed Bulshar – “ 

“We can’t kill Bulshar if I’m still alive,” Nicole brings up. 

Jeremy wags his finger around. “Buh-Buh-Buh! That’s _just_ a theory. Remember what I told you before, the cult would kill his heirs so that their power would return to him to wake him up,” 

“So if you kill me, he goes full-demon-powered-up mode and _then_ you kill him. That’ll be it. Right? There won’t be any heirs to sustain him. There won’t be anyone left who could keep a piece of him alive. It would be over,” Nicole says. She looks from Jeremy and Wynonna. They’re wide eyed and staring. 

“Well, that’s the theory,” Jeremy say, voice cracking a little. He clears his throat. “S-Sorry. I just… I’ve never heard someone talk so casually about – “ 

“Sacrificing themselves?” Nicole says. 

“Yeah,” 

Nicole nods. She supposes she would be confused and concerned too if she was on the other side of the table. But she isn’t. She isn’t. She’s here wearing his ring. And nothing will change that. 

_( _In another reality, Nicole would like to think she’s able to grow old, wait until her red hair turns white, get to raise kids with Waverly, get to see Waverly get old and wrinkled. At least in this life, Nicole can give that to her, can give her the ability to grow old in exchange for Nicole having no life at all. If only she was in another reality._ )_

“Well, we need a way to kill Bulshar. Peacemaker doesn’t really do the trick,” Wynonna says. Her face is carefully neutral. But her eyes. They can’t be as easily manipulated. Nicole can read those eyes just as easily as she could read Waverly’s. 

_( _She’s an Earp whisperer. Or maybe, she’s just good at reading pain. She’s had enough of it to be able to see it clear as day._ )_

“Okay. One obstacle at a time,” Jeremy says, but Nicole knows that’s the one thing they don’t have. 

The luxury of time. 

_\---_

Waverly is laying in bed reading with her eyes narrowed and a pen dangling from her lips. 

“You look so cute when you read,” Nicole whispers, playing with the ends of Waverly’s hair. Ever since their last conversation, Waverly’s been so diligently trying to crack the case. 

_( _Nicole wishes she would just let it go._ )_

_( _Her girlfriend was solving a case to help Nicole that would only in the end cause Nicole’s death. It’s ironic. It’s a fucking Greek tragedy._ )_

_( _Perhaps, Shakespeare is the true puppeteer of these events, Nicole muses. The joke eases the pain. Just a little bit. But not enough._ )_

“I love you, Waverly,” Nicole says. 

“I love you too, Nicole, but just give me one quick moment I think I – “ And there’s a look on Waverly’s face. A look Nicole wished to never see. A look. A look she knows well. 

It’s the “I solved it” look. And as Waverly excitedly jumps around the room, explaining it all, Nicole pretends she isn’t simply dying inside. 

_\---_

Waverly calls an urgent meeting in the BBD office. Jeremy comes in still in his Pokémon pajama pants. Doc is shirtless and still half-asleep. Wynonna is in a big fluffy robe that she stole from Nicole. Dolls is the only one dressed and presentable as the Waverly and Nicole are in tank tops and shorts. 

Waverly calls an urgent meeting in the BBD office to explain to the group the events that would lead to Nicole’s death. 

Except she doesn’t know that part. 

But Wynonna and Jeremy do. 

“I found a way to kill Bulshar!” Waverly announces. “It’s the ring! The ring!” 

“Anyone else getting a strong Lord of the Rings vibe? No? Just me? Okay. Just me,” Jeremy bobs his head, mumbling to himself. “Continue, Waves,” 

“The ring triggered Nicole’s powers a-as…” 

“An heir to Bulshar,” Nicole helps. 

“Right,” Nicole can’t help but notice the way Waverly’s face contorts like the very thought irks her. “Right,” Waverly continues. “Which mean the ring has connection to Bulshar’s powers. It’s a-a-a vessel or an anchor for them,” 

“The only anchor I’m interested it, is a big ass one that I could drop on his head,” Wynonna barks out, crossing her arms. 

“Wynonna, what if we turn that vessel against him? No one is as strong as Bulshar! What if we use his powers again him?” 

The gears are turning in Wynonna’s head slowly. “So I’m going to turn Bulshar’s ring into…Bulshar’s bullet,” 

“Yes!” Waverly says. But her smile dampens. “But it’s just a theory, and I don’t know if – “ 

“No. No, we’ll try it,” Dolls says. “Right?” He looks around. Doc is nodding. Waverly is smiling. But Wynonna, Jeremy, and Nicole know the truth. 

_( _Nicole thinks she’d like to get buried in her black pantsuit. She was going to wear it to her and Waverly’s anniversary dinner, but it would be nice to be buried in it._ )_

_( _Lilies would be nice too. Nicole always wanted lilies at her wedding, but lilies at her funeral. Lilies._ )_

_( _Waverly could do the eulogy. Wynonna could stand beside her. Maybe say a few words. It would be nice._ )_

“But there’s a problem!” Jeremy pipes up. And Nicole and Wynonna whip their head silmatenously at him, because he isn’t supposed to say. He isn’t supposed to say. 

_( _She isn’t supposed to know. Not yet. Not know. Not when she’s so close. Not when they have more time._ )_

“Um there’s a – “ Jeremy’s voice is strangled in his throat as he tries to fend off the deadly stares from both Nicole and Wynonna. “There’s a… Nicole’s ring! It’s stuck to her finger!” 

“Haught has fat fingers,” Wynonna nods in agreement. 

“What? I don’t – “ But Nicole doesn’t have the energy to fight with Wynonna about this, to have a battle of wits in front of them all. “Jeremy’s right. It’s stuck. And it won’t come off,” 

“We’ll find a way,” Waverly says. “We’re so close, Nicole. We’re so close to getting rid of him. I can feel it,” 

_( _Nicole can feel it too. Nicole can feel it._ )_

_( _Death is coming. It’s creeping. It’ll be here soon._ )_

“Alright, team,” Dolls claps his hands together. “I want all hands on deck. We need to find a way to get that ring off Nicole’s finger,” 

_( _They’ll have to take it from her cold dead body. Literally._ )_

_\---_

Wynonna takes Nicole out to get coffee for everyone. But its an excuse. They both know it. They pile into the truck and play songs by Shawn James as they drive through Purgatory. 

“My suspension is going to be over soon. I’ll be the sheriff’s deputy again,” Nicole says. She’s trying to make conversation. Anything. She’d rather talk about anything except – 

“We need to tell my sister,” Wynonna says. “We need to tell her that – “ 

“Her big sister is going to kill me,” 

“It doesn’t _have_ to be me,” Wynonna says lowly. “The other heirs died other ways like fire and stabbings,” 

“It has to be you. You’re the only one I trust. And the only one she’ll forgive. And Peacemaker – “ Nicole takes a deep breath. “Peacemaker kills demons and sends them to Hell,” 

“You’re not a demon,” 

“Well, I’m part one anyways,” 

“I don’t know if Peacemaker kills part-demons, part-cops,” Wynonna says and it’s a joke, but her eyes are serious. 

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” Nicole shrugs. 

_( _Being so nonchalant with her own death is the first time Nicole realizes she’s ready. She’s accepted her fate. She’s ready._ )_

_( _To die._ )_

“What if only a part of you dies?” Wynonna says. 

“I don’t think getting shot in the head works like that,” Nicole says. “But, maybe,” 

“It’s going to kill her,” 

Nicole stiffens and looks over. Tears are already shining in Wynonna’s eyes. 

_( _Wynonna. Tough and strong. Her best friend._ )_

“You dying… It’s going to kill her,” 

“She’ll be alright,” Nicole says. 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because she has you. You’ll be there. For each other. You Earps are survivors. I would know,” 

Wynonna is quiet for a moment before she nods. “You’re a good dude, Haught,” 

“Thanks, Earp,” 

_\---_

Nicole doesn’t know when she’s supposed to break the news. She thinks she might do it over a relaxing dinner. But Wynonna is on edge. She’s stomping through the house, drinking thrice the amount as usual, and Nicole can’t help but think she has the easy part in all this. 

_( _She gets to die. Wynonna has to live with the memory, with the guilt, with the regret._ )_

“Waverly,” Nicole finally says. Her voice is so quiet. Barely above a whisper. A part of her hopes that Waverly didn’t hear, that she’s too focused on the movie to even notice Nicole’s shaky voice. But Waverly, ever so sweet, turns her head, big eyes focusing on Nicole. 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Your plan… I think it’s going to work,” 

“Thanks,” Waverly smiles. And she leans forward and presses a kiss on Nicole’s lips, and Nicole kisses back. 

_( _If a kiss could say goodbye, this one can._ )_

Waverly places a hand on Nicole’s chest, breaking them apart. “Baby, I… What’s wrong? You’re crying,” 

“There’s something I have to say. And I need you to let me say it,” 

“Okay,” 

“Before I met you… I – “ Nicole’s voice break. And fuck, she can’t do this. She can’t say goodbye. She can’t do this. She can’t do this now. She wants more time. She wants more time with Waverly. 

“Nicole – “ 

“Just – Fuck. I need to say this,” Nicole tries to breathe, but it’s so hard. She stares up at the ceiling, away from Waverly. “I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you, Waverly Earp. You say this ring triggered my powers, but, baby, that was – “ And she can’t hold back the sob as she says, “ – that was fucking you. You are my everything. I would die for you. I would live for you. I would do anything for you,” 

“Nicole,” And Waverly’s crying. And Waverly is grabbing Nicole’s face, forcing her eyes to be downward. “Nicole, look at me. Look at me. What is going on? W-Why are you – Why does this sound like a goodbye?” 

“In order to kill Bulshar, Wynonna is going to have to kill me,” 

“That’s…. No. No. No,” Waverly stands up abruptly. 

“Baby just sit down for a – “ 

“No! No! This is – NO!” Waverly is pacing. Waverly is digging her fingers into her hair. “There has to be another way!” 

“There isn’t,” 

“Well, I’ll find one!” Waverly snaps. “I’ll find one. There’s gotta be another way. This can’t be it. This can’t be our story. T-This isn’t my happily ever after,” 

“I know it’s not, baby, but if I die, you can have that. You’ll get to grow old and have Alice and be safe. I can do that for you. My sacrifice will give you life,” 

“Fuck, Nicole. I-I-I can’t! I don’t want this! You’re my happily ever after! You’re my reason! The reason I get up everyday, the reason I fight, the reason I try so hard! And y-y-you can’t go. Not when we – “ Waverly shakes her head viciously, hiding her face in her hands. Emotions overwhelming her. “We said we were going to get married!” 

“And honeymoon on Hawaii,” 

“And have a kid named after your grandmama,” 

“And a dog named Oakley,” 

“And a house with a white picnic fence,” Waverly continues. “Fuck, Nicole! You promised me that! You promised me that! A-And now, what? We can’t? You promised me a happily ever after with you!” 

“This is the only way, Waverly. I’m so, so sorry!” 

“You can’t do this!” 

“I have to!” 

“No! No! I forbid it!” 

“You can’t forbid me dying! It doesn’t work like that!” 

“Why can’t it work like that?” 

“Because I _have_ to die!” 

You don’t have to do anything!” Waverly rushes forward, grabbing Nicole’s arms. “We could run away! Me and you! Go to Hawaii! Get drunk and live on the beach and get matching tattoos and wear t-those flower necklaces and live our best lives! Or we could go to – “ 

“Waverly,” 

“O-Or! Or! Vegas! You love Vegas! You love the bright lights and the strippers and the rock climbing!” 

“Waverly,” 

“Paris! Get drunk eating baguettes and making love with the Eiffel Tour standing outside our window!” 

“Waverly!” 

“Anywhere! Nicole! Anywhere! We’ll throw a dart on the map and just take off to – “ 

“WAVERLY!” 

And Waverly stands there. Waverly stands there. And there is no fight in her eyes. There is no fire, no storm, no chaos, no anger. There is nothing but mute understanding, but defeat, but sadness, but hopelessness. 

“We’re not going anywhere, are we?” 

“No,” 

“You’re still going to sacrifice yourself for me, aren’t you?” 

“I have to, Waverly. Fuck. I have to. I don’t want to do this to you. B-But I have to. To give you your best chance and to finally help you get rid of this motherfucker,” 

“Nicole, if you wanted to give me my best chance, you would stay with me,” 

“You know that’s not true,” 

“Nicole – “ 

“And you know you can’t ask me that,” Nicole wipes the tears from her eyes. “I have to do this for us. I’m protecting us,” 

“I’ll find a way to bring you back. Peacemaker only kills demons and you’re mainly human. Your soul is mainly human. It won’t get sent to Hell. It’ll… I don’t know, but I’ll find a way to bring you back,” 

“I know you will, but, Waverly, if… you can’t bring me back. I want you to know – “ 

“Nicole, please don’t –“ 

“I have to, Waverly. I want you to know that I love you. I love you so fucking much. And I’ll always love you. And I don’t blame if you can’t bring me back,” 

“Nicole, stop – “ 

“I always said you were the one for me, Waverly Earp. And I want so badly to be able to grow old with you. So promise me. Promise me when you have kids you tell them Auntie Nicole loves them so damn much,” 

“Nicole, I really need you – “ 

“And you keep Alice safe. Okay? And you forgive your sister, because I love her. Okay?” 

“Okay. Okay,” 

“And you give Calamity to Nedley. He really loves that cat,” 

“Nicole, please. Let me – “ 

“And you, you don’t stop being extraordinary, okay? You don’t stop using that big, beautiful brain and that big heart,” 

“Nicole – “ 

“I have to go. I’m sorry,” Nicole stands up, tears streaming down her face, and the world falling apart. “I-I-I have to go,” 

“Where? Nicole, I – “ 

“I just – “ Nicole backs up, back to the door. 

_( _She needs to leave. She needs to breathe.__

_\---_

She ends up at Shorty’s. No matter what she always seemed to end up here. And there’s a tall man, sitting beside her, and her first instinct to his groan internally but she softens when she notices his features. 

“Dolls,” she says, lifting her drink up. 

“Nicole,” 

Hm, he first-named her. That was a good sign. 

He takes a long sip from his drink. His dark eyes following her from behind the mug. “Why are you with the Earps?” he asks, setting the glass down. 

“I’m not glued to them,” Nicole rolls her eyes. 

“No, but you don’t have much time with them either,” 

Nicole stills, lowering her beer. “You know?” 

Dolls face is stoic and Nicole lets out a laugh. “Right,” she says. “Right. Of course you know. You know everything,” 

“Not everything, but I know you,” Dolls says. He takes a sigh and it’s clear he’s uncomfortable. Nicole supposes she would too if she was on the other side of things. “You should spend time with the people you love, Nicole,” 

“It’s just… It’s so _real_ now,” Nicole whispers. “I wish we could have done it and just never told Waverly… But now she knows, and it’s so damn real,” 

“Do you not want to do this?” 

“I don’t want to, but I have to,” Nicole says. “A-And I just wish it wouldn’t hurt Waverly or Wynonna so much… Being with her just reminds me of all the pain I’m gonna cause her,” 

“Being with her and saying goodbye is going to give her the closure she needs to deal with this pain,” Dolls said. He throws some bills on the table. “You’re a good person, Officer Haught. Maybe in a different life, we could have been partners,” 

“I would have liked that,” Nicole says and she means it too. “Goodbye, Dolls,” 

He nods and walks out. 

_\---_

Nicole enters the homestead, breath scented like beer and head buzzing with alcohol. It’s dark out. Real dark out. There are stars in the sky and the world is beautiful. And there’s a big bonfire right outside the homestead. Wynonna is sitting there, nursing a bottle of Jack and passing it off to her sister, who sits beside her. 

“You got room for one more?” Nicole asks. And she hates that when Waverly looks up, look at her, her eyes fill with tears. No one speaks, but Wynonna nods and Nicole sits in the free lawn chair beside the Earps. “So what are we drinking to?” she asks. 

“You,” Waverly says. She passes Nicole the bottle. 

“Shit,” Nicole takes a long pull. 

Wynonna snatches the bottle quickly causing amber liquid to splash on Nicole’s face. Nicole would be annoyed as she mops herself up, but she doesn’t have enough time to be annoyed. 

_( _She just doesn’t have enough time._ )_

“Alright. A toast – “ Wynonna calls out. She stands up and she teeters a little and Nicole thinks she might just fall in the fire in her drunken state, but she steadies herself quickly and lifts the bottle up. “To Nicole Haught, the biggest, baldest lesbian in the whole Ghost River Triangle!” Wynonna howls. 

And Waverly howls too. And fuck it, so does Nicole. 

They howl like wolves, like frat boys. They howl. Until Waverly takes the bottle. Waverly stands up and she laughs, mirthlessly, for a bit just staring at the bottle until her laughter cut outs and her eyes fill with tears and Nicole’s heart just splinters in her chest. 

“To Nicole Haught, the love of my life, the bravest girl I know, and the best of us!” Waverly roars. “May – “ Emotion overwhelms her. Everything overwhelms her. “May she r-rest in peace!” she finishes, voice broken and tears openly flowing. 

“To Nicole,” Wynonna nods solemnly. But there is no loud howling no. There is no stupid, ridiculous hooting. There’s just dejected silence. 

The bottle gets passed to Nicole and Nicole stares at it for a moment. 

_( _What do you say at your own funeral?_ )_

She stands up, still holding the bottle, looking down at it. “Nicole, you…” She scrunches her nose. Her vision getting blurry. “You always tried to do the right thing. And often, the right thing just ended up hurtin’ the wrong people, but… But this, Nicole… Finally, this it. All your life has been leading to this moment,” She raises the bottle up. “To me, Nicole fucking Haught, a goody-two-shoes ‘till the day she died,” 

“Amen!” Wynonna nods. 

_\---_

“You think she’ll find a way to bring – bring me back?” Nicole slurs. The fire feels warm on her face, bright and calming. And she likes the way it flickers. Her stomach and throat are warm from the burn of alcohol. And she wonders if this is a better way to go out. Drinking herself to death sounded awfully fun right about now. 

“Who fucking knows! It’s Wave-y!” Wynonna shrugs. They both look over the youngest Earp. She had fallen asleep. Her face contorted and her face stained with tears, but she was asleep. 

_( _Maybe her dreams would be more forgiving than her reality, Nicole hoped._ )_

“Wave-er-ey,” Waverly’s name was awfully hard to say when heavily intoxicated. “She’s – She’s so fucking smart. Like Albert Einsten smart,” Nicole nods wistfully. 

“Nic-ole,” 

“Yeah?” 

Wynonna’s eyes were all glassy, fixed on the stars. “I’m gonna have to kill you,” 

“I know,” 

“That fucking sucks,” 

“Yeah. It fucking does,” 

The two pass the bottle back and forth, staring up at the stairs. 

“I’m gonna – “ Wynonna presses her hand to her lips for a moment before she continues. “I’m gonna have to kill you soon. Jerry said that – “ 

“It’s Jere-emmy,” Nicole corrects incorrectly. 

“Fine, Jere-err-ey said that Bul – Bul – Bullshit McDemon is making some big boy moves,” 

“Fuck,” 

“My – My thoughts exactly,” Wynonna bobs her head. She passes the bottle back to Nicole. “I can’t… I can’t have Bullshit hurtin’ people, Nic,” 

“I get it. I get it,” 

“So I – I gotta hurt you so the others don’t get hurt,” 

“That fucking sucks,” 

“It fucking sucks balls and-and a big ole dick,” 

“The biggest dick,” Nicole hums. She thinks the stars look really pretty but Waverly looks even prettier. Waverly with her brown eyes and beautiful hair for days and warm smile. Even all worried like that, she looked pretty. “You think she’s gon’ find a way to gimme back,” 

“Maybe. She’s smart,” 

“I really wanna come back, ‘Nonna,” 

“I know you do,” 

“I’m just…” Nicole felt liquid dribbling down her face and she couldn’t tell if it was booze or tears but she didn’t care. “I’m just not ready to go,” 

Wynonna looks at the fire for a long moment. “You should get some sleep, Nic. We got-got a big day tomorrow,” 

Nicole nods. She knows what comes tomorrow. She knows. 

_\---_

Nicole decides against the pantsuits. Instead, she puts on her official dress uniform. She looks good in her class A uniform. The dark color looks good on her. The tie makes her look dapper. Her hair nicely combed and Waverly does her makeup. 

_( _She wants more time. She wants more time. More time._ )_

Wynonna dresses up too. She puts on her nicest leather jacket and combs her dark, mare-like hair. And she polishes her gun and she pretends her eyes are swollen and puffy. 

Waverly wears a black dress and a pretty little flower crown on her head. 

_( _They spent the morning together. Spent the morning laying in bed, kissing each other. Spent the morning together making love, falling in love. Spent the morning touching each others for the last time. Spent the morning making sure they’d never forget it._ )_

_( _”I could stay here forever,” Waverly whispered against her skin._ )_

_( _”I think this is my heaven, Waverly Earp. You’re my heaven,” Nicole whispered back._ )_

They decide to do it out a bit just by the property line of the homestead. Nicole doesn’t want Waverly to associate her death with her home, but Wynonna wanted to be on the safe haven for this. Doing it elsewhere could mean a demon sweeping in trying to take the ring before Waverly could take it and take action. 

“I’m going to find a way,” Waverly pleads out. “There’s gotta be a way – Wynonna, we don’t have to – “ 

“We have to, baby girl. Dolls found some cultists up around Shorty’s. They want Nicole’s ring. They know what we know. We have to do this now before…” 

“Before someone else can kill me,” Nicole finishes her thought. She takes off her hat and tuck it under her arm. She feels like a proud soldier. “I’m ready,” 

_( _But she’s not. She’s shaking. She’s trembling. She so scared. She’s so fucking scared._ )_

“Nicole, I love you,” 

And Peacemaker is rising up. 

And Peacemaker is glowing. 

And the end is nearing. 

And Nicole blinks back tears. “I love you so damn much, Waverly Earp. I want you to find love again. Find someone to treat you right. And if you so much as get back with Champ Hardy, I will haunt you,” 

Waverly laughs but tears are falling, flowing, falling, falling, falling. “Please. Pl-Please haunt me,” 

“Oh, baby. I could think of no one else I would want to haunt. Because you’re amazing, Waverly. You showed me what true love is. You showed me who I really am. I always said I’m going to love you till the day I die, Waverly Earp. Guess I made good on my last promise,” 

There are tears in Wynonna’s eyes as the gun cocks. 

“I’m really sorry, Haught,” Wynonna says, voice rough. “You were always my favorite,” 

“I forgive you, Wynonna,” Nicole says. She keeps her eyes on Waverly. 

_( _Waverly. Waverly. Waverly._ )_

“I love you,” Nicole says. 

_( _Her last words._ )_

And the gun sounds off with a _BANG_! And the world goes black, goes silent, just stops. 


	4. Chapter 4

The funeral is nice. Waverly takes control. She isn’t about to let Nicole have that damn sky funeral. Not yet. Not yet. Not when as the priest as talking, as the Haughts sit in the first pew with their red hair and dislike for Waverly, as Wynonna sits in the back drinking, Waverly’s spell book is burning a hole in her jacket.

Dolls has his arm across her shoulders, squeezing her, holding her, keeping her stable. She leans into him as her eyes linger on the casket.

“I’m going to bring her back,” Waverly whispers in the middle of the service. “I know I can. I know I can,”

Dolls doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just stares and looks around and then his grip tightens on Waverly. “It’s a nice service, Waverly,”

“Yeah… Yeah, it is,”

\---

Waverly avoids the Haughts. Or maybe the Haughts avoid her. She’s not sure. But they avoid each other like ships passing and it’s good. It’s good, because the Haughts don’t approve of Nicole’s “lifestyle”, they don’t approve of the Earps, they don’t approve of Wynonna and her drinking, or the fact that Nicole is buried in her police uniform. She avoids the Haughts. The Haughts avoid her. And she goes to the homestead, plops down in a chair, and allows herself to feel tired.

“I wish Nicole was here,” It’s the first thing she thinks. It’s the first thing she says. And she regrets it the moment it comes flying out of her mouth, because Wynonna is sitting in front of her. Wynonna is sitting on the couch, full to the brim with regret and booze.

“I wish she was here too, baby girl,”

“I…” Waverly’s voice shakes. “I don’t know how she handled having a family like that,”

“That’s not her family,”

“What?” Waverly looks up. She looks up and Wynonna has tears in her eyes.

“We’re her family, Waves. We’re her family,”

\---

Waverly can’t sleep. She can’t sleep. So she researches. She researches. She researches. And then, she starts the spells. She gets the candles. She starts drawing the signs from the books on the floor of the barn. Shit. Shit. She can’t sleep. She can’t sleep. She works. She works. Because she has to bring Nicole back.

Jeremy comes in the morning the next day. He’s tired. His hair is scraggly and unshaved and his eyes are just full of exhaustion. And when he sees her, working and researching and not sleeping –

(Because she can’t sleep. She can’t sleep.)

He stops in his tracks. “What is all this?”

“I’m bringing Nicole back,” Waverly says like it’s obvious. “I have already tried two spells, but there’s another one – “ She points to her book and passes the textbook to Jeremy.

“Baron Sam-ed-die?” Jeremy says, butchering the pronunciation and squinting at the page. He passes the book back. “Do you, uh, need some help? How about some food? I’ll bring something from the – “

“I’m okay, Jeremy. I’m okay,”

“It’s okay if you aren’t… Nicole was your… I mean, she was your unicorn. You’re…” Jeremy for the first time seems to be a lost for words. He stands there, unsure of what to do.

“I’m okay,” Waverly says again. Because she has to keep saying that. She has to. She has to believe that things are going to be better. She has to believe that Nicole is going to come back. And if Nicole comes back, she’ll finally be okay. But if Nicole doesn’t? If Nicole doesn’t return?

Waverly can’t think about that.

“I’ll go get you some tea,” Jeremy decides, bobbing his head up and down stupidly. “Yeah. Tea. I’ll be back,”

\---

Waverly tries to sleep. She tries to sleep. She tries to sleep, but it’s impossible. It’s impossible, because she thinks of Nicole. She thinks of Nicole. Red hair. Dark outfit. Pale skin. She thinks of Nicole. Her bonus blanket. Her cat. Her humor and sarcasm and love. She thinks of Nicole. Nicole. Nicole. Nicole. Every thought, every breath, it all just connects with Nicole. Nicole. Nicole. Nicole.

\---

Wynonna helps her with some spells. Apparently, Earp blood is good, powerful and strong, and a good conductor for spells. It’s a gross and unfortunate feature, but Wynonna is glad to help. And Waverly is glad for her. She’s glad, because she’ll get to keep an eye on her sister. Being with someone who missed Nicole almost as much as Waverly did was comfortable in an uncomfortable way.

“What’s this spell?” Wynonna asks.

“Baron Samedi,” Waverly says, picking up the book. “I found some files of his in Nicole’s place and I just tried to open it up and then I researched and he’s the loa of death and I really think I’m on to something here,”

“Ooh, you sound excited and…sleep-deprived,” Wynonna teases, but the joke doesn’t really land. She sounds too tired with everything, too tired.

“I think this one could work,” Waverly says. She’s tried two different ones already. “Come on,”

\---

Waverly closes her eyes. She chants. She closes her eyes and chants. The candles flicker. The barn lights flicker. Everything is shaking. Waverly tightens her grip on Wynonna. She pictures red hair. She pictures early morning and coffee and PSD badges. She pictures Nicole. She pictures and she cloes her eyes tight and she tries to focus in. She tries to focus in.

She closes her eyes. She can feel something. A connection. Nicole. She can feel bright light, warmth. She tries to focus in on it. She tries to hold onto the feeling, but then it’s gone. It’s gone. It’s slipping out of her grasp. And the lights turn back on and stay on, and the candles are extinguished, smoke flying, and Waverly has to try not to cry because the connection, Nicole, it’s gone.

She lets go of Wynonna’s hands and tries to wipe the tears away.

“You okay, baby girl?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m fine. Let’s, uh – “ She closes her eyes tightly. She closes her eyes tightly trying to calm herself down. “Let’s try another,”

“Another spell?” Wynonna takes a pause for a moment. “Waves, maybe we should take a – “

“No. No. It’s fine. Come on,” Waverly takes Wynonna’s hands again.

\---

They bring her back. She doesn’t know how. Not yet. But she knows they brought her back, because she felt herself soaring, rising, leaving, and then she felt sinking, burning, hands grabbing at her and pulling her down. Then, it was darkness and fire and torment but it's a blur and it’s probably a blur for good reason, but then it all stopped. And now she’s back. They brought her back, but she isn’t sure how.

She isn’t sure of a lot, because when she wakes up, she’s alone. Worse. She’s in the darkness, in a coffin, a Catholic cross on her chest - her mother’s influence, no doubt - dressed in her formal police dress suit, and there’s a rose in her hands. It’s wilted. Dead. And grey.

They brought her back, but she doesn’t know how. She doesn’t know how long either.

Nicole was dead, but they brought her back.

\---

She tries to stay still, lying there in the coffin, smelling roses and Holy Water. She tries to stay still and pretend the darkness and the coldness doesn’t bother her.

It does.

She tries to stay still, because she knows they’re coming for her. She knows they brought her back. It had to be them so she tries to stay still.

She fails. She digs. And she pushes. And she chokes on dirt as it falls down. And she cries and she screams. And she doesn’t know how she ends up on the surface - clothes and lungs full of dirt. And she kneels on the ground, hacking, as blood drips from her knuckles and fingertips. And she coughs up a storm until she feels clean.

She takes off her blazer, her hat, tie. Well, she doesn’t take off. She _tears_ it off, stripping until she only has her white button up and black trousers.

It’s too much. It’s too much to walk around in the clothes she was fucking buried in. It’s all too fucking much.

She stands, dropping the cross and the rose. Blood dripping from her fingers. Body covered in dirt.

“ _Here lies Officer Nicole Haught. Purgatory’s Bravest and Finest._ ”

The tombstone is pretty. It’s dark and the words are engraved in a font that just screams that Waverly had something to do with it.

Of course, she did.

Nicole moves to touch it. To rub her fingers against the inscription, but before she gets close enough, nausea hits and she throws up.

( _Fuck_.)

“Officer?”

The voice is in the distance. She blinks and looks up. It’s an old man with blue eyes and wispy white hair. He’s hold a bouquet of daisies.

“Officer Haught? That you?”

He's coming closer. Closer. Closer. His eyes are wide with shock. They kind of remind Nicole of Wynonna’s bonfires and whiskey. She blinks. He looks like he's seen a ghost.

(In a way, he has.)

“Officer Haught? You don't look so good, darling. Are you alright?”

“I…” She cringes at her voice. It’s scratchy and far lower than she expected it to come out. She swallows hard. “I...need a ride,” It hurts a bit to speak.

“Of course,” 

She hobbles toward him, toward his truck. She’s glad he doesn’t stare at her too much, at the dirt smeared against her pale skin, at the lost look in her eyes, at the blood running down and dripping onto the grass.

She doesn’t know why he’s here either. It’s far too early in the morning for visitors, but she knows he has a late wife and he probably wouldn’t take too kindly to an interrogation.

She doesn’t feel much like a cop to give him one either.

(If she’s honest, she doesn’t really feel like anything. She feels numb. If that’s a feeling. She isn’t sure if it is.)

\---

She gets into the passenger seat of the truck and the second she sees her reflection, she throws up again. Thank God, she hadn’t shut the car door.

She throws up, steadies her, regains her composure, and looks at herself again.

Her hair isn’t red.

That’s what hits her first.

Her hair isn’t red. And her skin is a few shades too pale to be normal. And her eyes almost looked darker or maybe it’s just such a sharp contrast with her skin that it creates an illusion.

Her hair isn’t red. It’s black. Black, black, black.

And she touches it and wants to throw up again.

(She doesn’t. She swallows down the bile, because the old man is eyeing her oddly. He’s asking her questions like where she wants to go, if she’s okay to be in the car, if she needs him to call someone, but she’s too busy staring into her eyes, because she was dead. Now, she’s not.)

She’s never had _black_ hair before. It’s so dark and reminds her of Waverly’s eyes when she was possessed, of nights at the homestead, of Wynonna’s motorcycle, and Dolls’s coffee, and Nedley’s black Stetson, and…

“Are you alright, Officer?”

“Fine,” She isn’t. She doesn’t want him to know that. “Can you drive me to the edge of town but don’t cross? There’s something I have to see,” She knows that isn’t far. Practically a two minute drive really, but she doesn’t want to walk there.

(She also knows she should be going in the opposite direction. In the direction towards town. In the direction towards home. Towards the homestead. Towards family.)

The old man doesn’t object. He seems a bit too freaked out to do so. Like he knows something isn’t right.

Word of her death must have spread. A cop doesn’t just die in Purgatory and no one bats an eye. It’s a small town after all.

\---

She spills out. Falls out really. Any strength she had before is absent. It feels like only her will alone is holding her body together.

(Is keeping her moving. Is keeping her heart beating and brain working. She wonders what would happen if she just stopped. She doesn’t think about it long.)

She falls out of the truck and braces herself for the fall. It hurts but it's numb. She picks herself up, using the truck, before she shuts the door.

“Thank you,” she manages to say. Words still hurt. She needs water, she thinks, but to ask the man to get her water would be too much.

(Besides, part of her still thinks she’s going to fall over and die at any moment. Like this miracle is short lived. Like whatever wish, whatever spell, whatever ritual will fall apart and have an expiration date.)

“You sure you want to be dropped off here?”

“I’ve taken too much of your time,”

“No, I think - “

“It’s okay. Thank you for everything,”

She walks forward. It sort of feels endless here - where it’s so flat and foggy and cold. It feels like the type of place someone would disappear in.

(She feels numb. She feels hollow. She may be back, but she wonders if something is missing. If she isn’t all the way back. She wonders and wonders as moves forward. Step by step. Until she’s standing before the edge.)

Oh, the Ghost River Triangle. Designed to keep the baddies in. Designed to keep the Earps trapped. Designed to keep Hell on Earth in one spot.

She sticks her hand out. Pass the line.

It moves slowly. It shakes. But it doesn’t burn or sting or hurt.

“Not a Revenant,” she murmurs. That’s good. It is, but she doesn’t feel good or feel better.

(She still feels nothing.)

She looks ahead. Part of her just wants to keep walking ahead. She gave Purgatory one life - why give it her next? But she knows she can’t.

(She may feel nothing. Hollow. Empty. Sinking. But she knows there are people in Purgatory who feel something. Feel something for her.)

(Waverly.)

(Wynonna.)

(Doc.)

(Dolls)

(Jeremy.)

She turns around. A little ways to the left of her, she knows there’s a small little store. It’s a little cabin designed to catch people’s attention just as they drive through Purgatory.

She decides that’s her best bet and walks towards it.

(Hobbles, really. More like drags herself, stumbling and falling every so often.)

\---

Waverly Earp is in the middle of her third crisis of the day. She’s sitting in a pentagon. There’s candles all around.

(Vanilla, cake, and strawberry scents fill the barn. It’s perhaps the first time the barn smelled decent.)

There’s a few books strewn about. Wynonna is sitting in front of her and Dolls behind.

Waverly Earp is in the middle of her third crisis, because the ritual didn’t work.

“I’m,” she let out a frustrated growl. A noise she didn’t know her small body could produce. She’s been full of surprises recently. “I’m supposed to feel her presence. Her life force. That’s what the book said. I’d _feel_ her,”

“Well, what _do_ you feel?” Wynonna asks. Wynonna has been everything Waverly needed. More patient. More kind. More compassionate. More affectionate.

(She also has dark bags under her eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping.)

(Neither has Waverly.)

(Sometimes, Wynonna’s eyes are red or puffy without reason - at least, that's what Wynonna claims. Waverly thinks its because she’s tired of missing Nicole, of losing people to this Earp curse, to the fucked up world they share.)

(Waverly is tired too.)

“I feel… I feel something. I think,” Waverly can’t help but scowl. “I’m not sure,”

They all take a moment. A pause. She tries to focus.

(Focus on red hair and dimpled smiles and kisses peppered on her skin. )

“I think we should move to next one,” Dolls whispers. His voice is somber but not at all harsh. “What’s the next one, Waverly?”

Waverly lets out a sigh. This is the fifth resurrection spell they’ve tried today. It’s twentieth one in total. They all know it. Even if they don’t want to say it aloud. They all know the hope for success is dwindling fast.

Nicole’s been dead a week. In the time, her family buried her and the town mourned her.

It’s too late.

Hence, Waverly’s crisis. It’s a bit hard to perform resurrection spells as accurately as possible with the added pressure of a ticking clock. Plus, there’s the stress of killing Bulshar. And never mind the fact that they’re running out of resurrection spells to perform.

“Has Doc found the Blacksmith’s sister yet?” she asks, eyes glued to the Latin before her.

“He hasn’t called so I assume no,” Dolls says. He straightens his back and stands. “On second thought, I think we should take a break. Earp?”

Wynonna stiffens out of habit and looks up. “Yeah?”

“A word?”

They’re going to talk about her. Waverly knows it well, because everyone has been talking about her. About the fact she hasn’t taken a shower since the funeral. Or brushed her hair. Or eaten a good meal. Or gotten a good night sleep.

Hell, she can even hear them now.

They’re huddled in the corner of the barn whispering.

“We have five more spells to try, Wynonna,” Dolls’s voice is soft and low. “I think we should consider the possibility that Officer Haught isn’t coming back,”

“We’re not giving up,” Wynonna hisses. “We owe that Haught. She wouldn’t give up for us. If there’s a fucking chance one of these shitty spells can bring Haught back, then we’re going to try it once, twice, thrice if we have to,”

Wynonna has been everything Waverly needed. Including supportive.

(Waverly loves her sister more than she thought was ever possible.)

“Are you two done whispering?” Waverly snaps. She doesn’t mean to snap, but the tension and the stress is eating at her. She has five more spells. Five more. One of them has to work. It has to.

One of them better work or…

Well, Waverly doesn’t know. She hasn’t processed. But it has to. It’s going to. She knows it is.

“We have another spell to do,”

They nod and take their places, and it all starts over again.

\---

Nicole finds clothes at the store. Thankfully with her overall haggard appearance, the cashier isn’t too concerned with payment.

“Officer Haught, is that you?” the cashier murmured looking at her face.

She shakes her head. “Officer Haught is dead. I’m her cousin,” It’s better for the world to think she’s dead. It’s better for everyone really.

(The desire to sprint over the border and leave Purgatory forever overwhelms her. She ignores it. Because Purgatory is calling for her. It’s calling for her soul. It’s like a little tug.)

(She wonders if all monsters felt that way. No wonder the Triangle attracts such beasties and things that go bump in the night)

She changes. Walking around in an outfit she was buried in doesn’t sit right with her. It probably wouldn’t with anyone. Blue T-shirt. Black jeans. A brown aviator jacket. Black Stetson. She looks in the mirror. With her dark curled short hair and the hat covering her features, Nicole Haught was nothing but a memory.

She leaves as quickly as she arrives.

(Nicole Haught is back. Back alive. But she doesn’t feel alive if this is what alive is supposed to feel like. She feels numb. Is numbness an attribute of life? It doesn’t feel like it. What even determines if something is alive? She feels half-alive, half-dead. A numbness. A sinking feeling she shouldn’t be here. She feels wrong. Like a blemish on Purgatory, something Wynonna needs to put down for the safety of everyone. She feels different. Not like Nicole. Nicole didn’t feel like this. But maybe this was the new Nicole. Maybe this is how she’s going to feel like for now. She isn’t sure. She isn’t sure of a lot. It’s all mixed up and confusing. But she doesn’t mind. She feels numb.)

She walks. She walks and walks. Drags her feet. She walks and walk and walks until her body is screaming and even then she keeps walking further and further. Walking about to civilization, walking back, back, back.

\---

She doesn’t know how she ends up at the town. She thinks she might have blacked out. She just can’t remember.

(She was swarmed with thoughts with each step. Flooded with everything. From before. From after. From now.)

Like her body was leading her, like it knew the way.

She supposed in Purgatory, all roads lead here -

Shorty’s.

\---

She stumbles in, nearly falls, but she catches herself quickly and limps toward a table in the back. It’s where the unsavory characters sit.

(She supposes that applies to her now.)

She sits and she watches the usual crowd stumble in. She watches them chatter amongst themselves. She watches people flirt with each other. She watches as drinks slosh around, as nuts are smashed, and chairs squeak and are pushed. And her eyes are frozen on one man.

(She doesn’t know what she’s doing, why she doesn’t return home, why she doesn’t grab a phone and call everyone. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, because it feels like she’s in a daze. Like she’s a ghost just watching things play out. Like she doesn’t belong. Like she isn’t real. Nothing feels real.)

She just watches from her seat in the back, hat tilted low, dark eyes scanning. And she settles it on one man.  
Tall. Skinny. Ebony skin and eyes like a snake.

He walks over to her, lips pressed in a thin line. “You’re Officer Haught,”

Nicole doesn’t say anything. She’s not too keen about speaking to strangers.

There’s something about this man. A white suit. A well-tailored hat resting on his head. A cane in his left hand in which he dramatically leans his weight on. He looks like he stepped out of movie. And there’s that necklace…

“You’re…” Nicole tries to think of a word. Familiar? Yes. Creepy as Hell? Yes and yes. But nothing comes out. She’s too transfixed on those eyes.

“We’ve met before, Officer. Mortal brains are fickle, little things,” The man passes his cane from hand to hand. “Let me re-introduce myself. Baron Samedi,”

Nicole can’t breathe. She remembers now. She remembers now. She was working a case. T-There was… Someone had summoned Baron Samedi, loa of the dead. She… She was in…

“I said I would see you soon,” the man says like it’s an inside joke among them. Maybe it was. “Best of wishes to you and the missus And, Haught – “

Nicole stills. Not because she wants to. Not because it’s an involuntarily reaction, but because the man’s eyes were sharp, swirling, were dangerous, were ripping through her and freezing her up.

“I like the new hair,” And with that, he’s gone.

Did he walk out? Vanquish in thin air? Nicole isn’t sure. It’s like he was never there at all. She blinks. She tries to remember his face, tries to remember what the necklace was or what the color of the cane was, but everything is fading as quickly as it had happened. Everything is fading.

(Voodoo and demons and Purgatory.)

(She really didn’t miss this brand of crazy.)

\---

Waverly has four spells left.

(Four spells. Four spells. Four spells.)

She chews on the end of her pencil as she sits on the couch translating the Latin to English, scribbling notes in the margin, and figuring out a list of ingredients needed to complete the spell. Dolls is outside. He’s standing there with a dark look. He’s been looking like that since Nicole’s funeral.

Jeremy is in the kitchen. Nicole’s death seemed to trigger a mom-mode in him that Waverly wasn’t expecting. Suddenly the homestead was filled with wonderful armoas and Jeremy made wonderful dishes and slipped them in front of the Earps. But Waverly wasn’t hungry. And she certainly didn’t have time for eating.

(Four spells. Four spells. Four spells.)

Wynonna and Doc and Dolls ate the food greedily, but the three were also drinking more. The three were also disappearing at odd hours for Bulshar-hunting and shooting practice. They were relentless. They were ready.

(“I’m gonna make Nicole’s sacrifice worth it, baby girl. I’m gonna. I promise,” Wynonna said as the casket lowered in the ground. “I promise on Alice,”)

(Waverly doesn’t remember a lot of that night, but that… _That_ she remembers.)

“Want some soup?” Jeremy asks, raising the bowl up.

“Uh, thanks, but no thanks. Working on something right now… I think this might work…”

“Hm,” Jeremy hums. He places the bowl down and rushes toward her side to peer over her shoulder, peer over her textbook. “You know, this all reminds me of Buffy,”

“Buffy,” Waverly repeats. She smiles to herself. “Nicole loved that show,”

“I know. She kept saying Wynonna was the real life Buffy,” Jeremy snickers to himself. He plops down on the other end of couch, sitting by her feet. His eyes widen. “Um. Wait. Uh, Waverly…?”

“What, Jeremy?” She didn’t like that tone. She didn’t like that tone.

“Well, in Buffy, they brought her back when she died,” Jeremy says, thinking things through. “But… Well, the witch tried to resurrect her and she tried some ritual and she thought… Well, she thought it didn’t work but it did and they didn’t know because they didn’t check and…”

“What is it, Jeremy?”

Jeremy swallows thickly. “Has anyone visited Nicole’s grave recently?”

\---

Waverly runs. Runs. Run. It’s late. The moon is shining down. Rain is powering. There’s rumbling in the sky like the world is angry. And Waverly runs. Waverly runs.

Wynonna and Jeremy behind her.

Waverly runs.

(Focus on red hair and dimples.)

(Focus.)

Lightning crackles, splitting the sky in bright light.

The rain pushes Waverly’s hair in her face, in her eyes. She pulls it all back. She just runs. She runs.

She slips as she makes her way down the hill, and soon gravity is pulling her down. She falls. She falls. She falls.

And everything hurts as she collided with the ground. And Wynonna is calling out to her, but she lifts herself up slowly. She lifts herself up and the first thing she sees. It’s the dark tombstone. It’s the words etched in the granite. It’s –

“ _Here lies Officer Nicole Haught. Purgatory’s Bravest and Finest._ ”

Waverly backs up instantly, kicking up mud, as she backs up. Because holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

There’s dirt all over. The casket is open, blood and dirt and tears in the white fabric. Rose thrown on the ground. Ripped clothing. Ripped and ripped. And blood staining the white.

Because holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

Nicole Haught was alive.

The lightening crackles again and the rain continues to pour, hard and strong and overwhelming, but Waverly doesn’t care. She doesn’t care she’s covered in mud and she’s soaked. She doesn’t care.

Because holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

She did it.

Nicole Haught was alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this installment. I don’t know if anyone else remembers Baron Samedi from the bonus content of the Purgatory SD case files back in season two, but I would really like him to come into the show and fix 3x02. Please and thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

Nicole goes to the bathroom, rubbing her head. Everything is weird. Everything is weird. She hears static. She feels like her mouth is full of cotton balls. 

The loa of death had visited her. The loa of death and then he just….vanished. And she suddenly is overwhelmed. 

Overwhelmed because the world is so weird, so different, so strong, so loud.

Death wasn’t like this. Death was quiet. Painful. And isolating. But quiet. So damn quiet. An eternity of quiet.

(Fuck.)

She stands in the bathroom, shaking, clutching the sink and staring at her all-too-pale skin and her dark hair. She stands in the bathroom, trembling. 

“Look at you,” a voice says from behind her. And she recognizes it the moment she hears it. How could she forget it? How could she ever forget a voice as low and cruel as this one? 

“This is the ladies’ room,” is the only thing she can manage.

“Still have spunk, I see. Even after death,” 

(Bulshar. Bulshar. Bulshar.)

She sees his reflection in the mirror standing right behind her. She sees his reflection - dark hat with a long brim, long dark cloak obscuring his body. She feels sick looking at him. Nauseated. 

“Look at you. So weak. So pathetic,”

Nicole closes her eyes tight. She doesn’t want to look at him anymore. She doesn’t want to be here anymore. She just wants to leave. 

“I have risen too, Miss Haught. Just as you. In death, you have shed my influence. Now you feel it. You feel it, don’t you, Miss Haught? The weakness. Without me, without my influence, you are nothing,”

“I’m human,” Nicole says. 

“Exactly,” Bulshar whispers in her ear. She shivers and closes her eyes tighter. 

(She tries to picture a beach. A happy place. With Waverly. Preferably. A happy place with Waverly and maybe Wynonna and the rest. And hotdogs and burgers on the grill and the sun streaming down on them.)

(Not this. Not being tortured by her great-great-great demon fucking grandfather who made her the Heir of Bulshar and caused her die.)

(Death. Death. It was… She can’t think about it.)

“You are not my heir anymore. I will not protect you,”

“I don’t need your damn protection,” 

“Oh, you will. When I come for you, when I come for your family, to destroy you all,”

“Don’t you fucking - “ Nicole whips around to grab him, ready to strike, but her hand is grabbing a fistful of a blouse and she’s holding a poor little woman close. And immediately, Nicole drops the woman, feeling stupid, feeling embarrassed, feeling horrible. 

“I’m so - “

“Get away from me, freak!” the woman cries out and she’s out of the bathroom.

And Nicole is alone. 

Alone. 

In a shitty bar’s bathroom, questioning what’s real and what’s not. 

(She wishes the ghost will stop taunting her. Bulshar. Baron Samedi. Can they all just leave her alone?)

(The world is too noisy.)

(Death was far quieter.)

\---

“Waverly, you need to - “

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Waverly shouts out, rain dripping down her feature, gliding against her face, mingling with her tears, soaking her outfit. Her hands are coated in dirt from her tumble. The world is full of crackling bolts of electricity. But all she can think about is Nicole. And she’s standing there, staring at the claw marks in the coffin and the tombstone and the emptiness and horrible sensation that something just awful happened here that is settling in her stomach. 

God, Nicole, Waverly thinks.

“My girlfriend woke up alone,” she says. It’s the first thing out of her mouth. “I… I thought when we brought her back I would be there to greet her, but she’s… She’s gone,”

“Where would she go? Huh, babygirl? You know Nicole better than any of us. Where would she go?” Wynonna asks, trying to sound calm, trying to sound reassuring. But her eyes are wide, full of shock and fear. And Dolls looks just as disturbed. 

Everyone is staring at the casket, blood and ripped clothes and tears. And they’re all thinking the same thing. They’re all thinking the damn same thing and Waverly knows it. 

They’re all thinking why Nicole didn’t come to them first. 

“Uh, I don’t know. Is that bad? I don’t know. I don’t know where my girlfriend would go,” Waverly says. And she can’t help the high-pitched nervous that comes bubbling up. “Oh my god,” Her voice falls flat. “Oh my god,” she says again. “I’m a bad girlfriend, aren’t I? I’m a bad person. I brought someone back from the dead and I don’t know where she is and I bet she’s scared. I’d be scared. God, I don’t where Nicole would go. Where would Nicole go?”

“Police station,” Dolls says abruptly. And everyone turns to him, confused. “What?” he frowns. “It’s a start. Nicole was very close with Nedley,”

“Okay. Okay,” Wynonna nods. And she places a hand on Waverly’s shoulder and squeezes it. “It’s going to be fine, babygirl. It’s going to be fine,”

\---

There’s only one place in Purgatory that is quiet. 

(It’s loud at night. At night when there are bonfires. When alcohol is flowing. When Waverly’s hands are touching Nicole.)

But there’s one place in Purgatory that is quiet. 

(Where it seems perfectly isolated from the world. A little bubble. A little paradise in the form of a shitty little house and an even shittier barn.)

(Where a police car is parked next to a red Jeep and a motorcycle.)

There’s one place in Purgatory that Nicole needs to go to.

(Wants to. Does she want to? Does she want to be alive? Or is this temporary? What is this? Is she back? Truly back? Or is this temporary?)

(She can’t hurt Waverly again. She cannot put Waverly through her death a second time. It’s better that she stays away.)

The world is too loud. Purgatory is too loud. 

 

Nicole never thought that would be her complaint of the small town. 

Nicole never thought she would see this town as so damn loud. 

But it is. 

It screams. 

It’s a town that screams and screams. Screams for attention, for chaos, for drama. Screams as Revenants run amok. Screams as kids go missing on Christmas and folks die left and right. Screams. Screams. Screams. 

Nicole needs quiet. Nicole needs to feel safe. 

And being in town, sitting in Shorty’s doesn’t feel safe.

(It feels like the loa of death is going to grab her and drag her away.)

(It feels like Bulshar is going to come back and destroy her.)

Nicole needs to go back. Go back to the homestead. Because Bulshar is coming. Bulshar is coming. And she’s not going to let that bastard hurt the Earps. 

She needs to be there when he falls. She needs to be there.

Unless this is temporary. Absolutely temporary.

(And her skin would crumble to dirt. And her hair would fall among the grass. And her body would decompose, only to be eaten by vulture and maggots like she had intended when she was young and a radical environmentalist.)

(Funny. Funny, how that was her dream, her way out, her way to serve the world, but now she would give anything to just be buried beside Waverly Earp. With Wynonna. With Dolls. With her family, resting for eternity with her loved ones.)

Nicole walks, because the world is too noisy to speak and she doesn’t want to ask anyone. Too many questions. Too many odd looks. It’s better if she walks. Even though, it’s miles and miles away, but it’s better this way. 

Her feet carry her. They know the journey. Like muscle memory, they walk. 

But her brain, her mind, it travels in the opposite direction. 

Nicole Haught, a woman torn apart, a woman trapped in a constant battle, walks two directions. 

But no one sees. And no one cares.

\---

The drive is tense. And Doc’s foot is heavy on the gas. Normally, he doesn’t drive. He sits in the back and wisecracks and smokes, but today, he drives. Because Wynonna’s mind is a soupy mess of regret and guilt and worry and concern. And Dolls just wants to hold her hand. And Waverly is thinking of Nicole.

(Red hair. Dimples. That smile.)

And Jeremy is worlds away, mumbling about Buffy and how she was after the episode. Everyone is too tired to tell him to shut up. So they let him talk. And Doc drives. 

It also helps that Doc doesn’t really understand driving all that much. Like while he understands red lights, green lights, and pedestrian crosswalks, he doesn’t pay much attention to speed limits so he keeps a heavy foot on the gas, letting the world whirl by, as they speed to Purgatory’s police station.

They leave Waverly’s car at the graveyard. They had traveled there in two cars. But it just feels wrong now.

It feels wrong to split up. 

Dolls and Doc run in. Wynonna takes Waverly’s hand and they walk behind them. A bit slower. A bit slower so they can stay in their little bubble where everything is alright, where Nicole is back and nothing is wrong. 

“Why didn’t she come find me?” Waverly whispers as the boys turn the corner. Jeremy respectfully walks ahead of them, knowing a serious conversation is going to take place, and Wynonna smiles gratefully to him as he passes. 

“Come here,” Wynonna steers Waverly to a bench and the two sit down, staring at the bright blue of the police department walls. For Wynonna, this color only brought trouble, only brought the real world and it’s damn responsibilities. For Waverly, this color meant Nicole, meant stolen moment, and tight fitting uniforms and Nicole… Nicole…. Nicole…

(What is this building - this department - without Nicole?)

(Who were any of them without her?)

(Who was Waverly?)

“Life has handed you a shit sandwich, baby girl. And I’m so sorry,” Wynonna says, wrapping an arm tightly around her and keeping there. For comfort. Waverly leans in close. “I don’t know why Nicole didn’t come back to us, but she has her reasons. But I know this. We’re going to find out why. We’re going to find her, and then, baby girl, we’re going to make sure nobody ever hurts you or her again,”

“You can’t make promises like that,”

“I can. And I will,” Wynonna says stubbornly. “We’re all going to live happily ever after and you two will kick of Purgatory Pride and Nicole is going to play with Calamity and bring that miserable cat to the homestead. And I’ll get Alice back. And we’ll be…. We’ll be happy,”

Waverly doesn’t say anything. She stares at the blue wall for a long moment. Before she turns to her sister, she opens her mouth but whatever thoughts, whatever words she was going to produce die in her throat as she hears a shout from the other room.

“YOU TELL US, YOU MISERABLE MAN, WHERE OUR REDHEADED FRIEND IS OR SO HELP ME - “

“Shit!” Wynonna jumps up and the two Earps storm in to find Dolls grabbing at Doc’s coat, Jeremy rambling, hands waving around, and Doc gripping Sheriff Nedley by the collar and drawing the man uncomfortably close. 

“He doesn’t know, Doc!” Dolls shouts. “Now let him go. That’s an order!”

Wynonna runs forward and grabs Doc by the shoulder and tears him away, fast and hard and unexpectedly, and the old cowboy stubbles back. “Nedley, I’m sorry about - “ she starts, but Nedley shakes his head. 

“Get a handle on that anger, son,” Nedley hisses. “And direct it at someone who deserves it. Like the bastard who killed Haught,”

The oxygen feels like it got sucked out of the air. There was an official story that was released. A story about demons storming the homestead, shooting up the land, and taking Haught’s life. Nedley just knew the story. Nedley knew the story and had been grumbling, working hard with his nose to the ground to find Nicole’s killer, to avenge her, to do something for her. And it broke Waverly’s heart. It broke her.

(A dark part of her was glad that not all of Purgatory had gone through Nicole’s death as easily as the rest had. That Purgatory cared about Nicole. That people cared.)

“Nedley, have you seen anyone? Redhead about yay high?” Wynonna says in a easy tone despite her grisly expression.

“No,” Nedley shakes his head. “None of Haught’s folks have been up here,”

“Any strange calls? Anything come over the wire?” Dolls says. But Nedley looks at him with a sharp gaze. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, Nedley. It’s about Nicole,” he clarifies. 

“Please look past that transgression,” Doc says with a huff. “We’re just… We want to find her killer, Sheriff. Avenge her,” 

And perhaps it was the mention of Nicole or the shared plea of two men who had very little in common, but Nedley nods. 

(Probably because of the former. Because of Nicole. Nicole. Nicole.)

“Someone said they saw a girl by the graveyard and gave her a lift. Odd looking girl. Tall and dark, dark hair, and looked like death. Man said he mistook her for Haught for a moment. Maybe a relative that knows something,”

“Yes…” Dolls looks at the group. The same idea bouncing in all their heads. “Yes, a relative. Where did he take her to?”

“The border, but she didn’t cross. She just walked off. Man phoned it saying just a druggie, but… druggies don’t ask for rides to the line and don’t cross,” Nedley says gruffly. 

“Okay. Thank you,” Dolls says. He looks to the group and Jeremy and Doc and him head out. Wynonna follows, but just before she can with Waverly in tow, Nedley’s voice calls out to them.

“Earp!”

“What?” Wynonna turns over her shoulder. 

“When you find the bastard who killed Haught, give them Hell,”

Wynonna is quiet for a moment, but she nods before she takes off down the hall, clutching her sister’s hand painfully tight. 

\---

They head to the homestead. And Wynonna and Dolls and Doc all still at the same time before Waverly and Jeremy can notice what’s wrong. Waverly’s too tired to ask. Waverly’s too tired to pay attention to the door that slightly cracked, to the foot prints, dirty, droplets of red, all the way inside. 

“Stay close, baby girl,” Wynonna whispers, whipping her gun out. 

They enter the house, moving slowly. And they hear a floorboard creak and everyone jumps as Wynonna whips her gun around and all they see is black hair, short and flat, and someone, tall and slender, kneeling on the floor of the kitchen. There are pieces of glass on the floor and blood and spilled tea. And Wynonna presses the barrel of her gun against the stranger’s neck in an instant.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are but you better get the fuck out of my house before I blast you and send you to - “ 

“Hell?” the woman rasps. And the voice is familiar… Oh so familiar. Oh so familiar. 

“... _Nicole_?” Waverly squeaks.

And she sounds hopeful. Oh so hopeful. So damn hopeful that Nicole just wants to run. Wants to run as far and as fast away from here. Because she doesn't deserve quiet. She doesn’t deserve the Earps. She doesn’t deserve Waverly. 

Because her staying, her being here, is just going to leave Waverly all hurt again. Is just going to leave Waverly in Bulshar’s way. 

(She _should_ run, the voice in her head says. She should run and never look back.)

Wynonna lowers her gun whether in shock, whether in recongition. Nicole stands up and turns around, hands bloody and raw from digging their way out of the ground, from tearing up her own coffin, from breaking the mug. 

“Sorry,” is the first thing out of her mouth, because she seems to forget how to talk, how to function, looking into Waverly’s eyes. Everything else just gets blurry, unimportant. “I… I was trying to make a pot of coffee and - My hands are shaky. I didn’t mean to make a mess. I’m sorry,”

And Waverly surges forward. And Waverly grabs Nicole. And Waverly feels Nicole stiffen, but she hugs her. She hugs her tight. And Nicole stands there, tall and frigid and stiff. And Waverly hugs her. And Waverly, Waverly, Waverly, Waverly.

“I found you,” Waverly whispers into her. 

“Yeah,” Nicole says, ignoring the lump in her throat. “Yeah, you did,”

She looks up. She tears her eyes away. She looks up and looks at Wynonna - dark hair and chaos in her eyes and heart. She looks up and Wynonna’s got tears running down her skin. And Wynonna is walking forward, slowly like she’s scared of spooking Nicole.

“Uh, I like the, uh, dark hair,”

Nicole doesn’t say anything. She just stares.

“Uh… Right. I’m sorry for, uh, shooting you and stuff,” Wynonna says. 

Nicole inhales sharply. She forgot about that. The part where things went… But she knew this was coming. “It’s okay, Earp,”

“I shot you,” Wynonna says bluntly. “That’s not - You went to - “

(Screaming. Black. Tearing. Pain. Red. Red. Red. Red.)

Nicole blinks. 

 

(Her head hurts. And her brain is fuzzy. And her chest is constricting.)

(Focus on Waverly. Focus on Waverly.)

“It’s okay,” Nicole says again. She looks down at Waverly who’s looking up at her. And she wants to get lost in her girlfriend’s gaze, but are they still girlfriends? Nicole doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how long she’ll be alive. She doesn’t know. 

“Thank you, Wynonna,” Nicole says. “Thank you for - “ Her eyes flicker downward. “Keeping everyone safe,”

But it’s not everyone. It’s not.

(It’s Waverly. Waverly. Waverly.)

Wynonna nods solemnly and then she breaks into an uncomfortable smile. “You know, I don’t exactly have the best reputation for loved ones, uh, coming back from the dead so you’re Nicole, right?”

And it’s a joke. But is it? Is it really? Because the last person was Willa. And Willa… 

(“What do I care about some ginger butch cop?” Willa hissed.)

(Nicole instinctively wants to rub her chest.)

“I’m Nicole,” Nicole says, devoid of humor, devoid of a smile. “Nicole Haught,”

And Wynonna just stares, big and unsure of what to do before she nods. “Yeah. Okay,”

Nicole looks around. Jeremy. Doc. Dolls. They’re all staring. They’re all staring at her like she’s on display. 

“It’s so good to have you back,” Waverly says. She separates from Nicole. Her eyes full of love, of longing, of sadness, of thick tears that are falling. “God, for a moment, I didn’t think I would be able to - “ She swallows thickly. “But you’re back! You’re back! I brought you back!”

“Baron Samedi,” Nicole repeats. 

And Waverly hesitates for a moment, but it’s Dolls who speaks up, “How’d you know that?”

His intention is clear. This isn’t just a friendly gathering.

It’s an interrogation.

“He visited me when I was at Shorty’s. He just… He just showed up,”

“What did he say?”

“I can’t remember,” Nicole says. “It feels like a dream, but I know it happened. I know it,”

Dolls doesn’t confirm or deny. He just hums and then he takes a step forward. And Nicole feels robbed of her protection, of her oxygen, of her freedom. She feels like she’s intruding.

“Why didn’t you come to us?”

“I…” Nicole looks around. Jeremy. Doc. Dolls. Wynonna. Waverly. Waverly. Waverly. They were all staring. Staring. Staring. 

“I was - “ 

“Dolls!” Waverly interrupts loudly. “Stop! She just got back,” She starts rubbing circles with her thumb along Nicole’s palm. And Nicole wonders if she knows what she’s doing. 

Because Waverly used to do that all the time. Under tables. When they were at work and couldn’t show affection. When Nicole was stressed, tossing and turning from nightmares, from stress. 

Nicole snaps her hand away from Waverly’s grip. “I should go,” she says suddenly. “I... “ And she looks down at Waverly. Waverly. Waverly. Who’s looking at her like she’s everything.

(Nicole is nothing. Nothing. Nothing. It’s Waverly who’s the angel. Who’s perfection. Who’s everything.)

“I should go,” Nicole says again, stepping away. 

“Baby, wait - “

“I need to - “ But she doesn’t finish her sentence. She just walks out.

And she keeps walking and walking until she can’t hear Waverly’s shouts anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun with this prompt. Hope y’all enjoy it! And if you have prompts, hit me up at gayywords. Or if you want to scream about Wynonna Earp. 
> 
> Shout out to @deputy-haught-sauce on Tumblr for giving me the prompt that jumpstarted this whole fic! Thanks for the love and support! You’re awesome!


End file.
